


the color of dust

by greytrashcan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Sans, Chapters with triggering content will be mentioned in notes at the beginning, Dom Sans, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, First Fanfiction, I don't know what else to tag, M/M, Might have sexual content in the future ???, Multi, Neglect, Past Abuse, Rated M for language and sexual references, Romance, monsters are a little bigger than humans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 80,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6177992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greytrashcan/pseuds/greytrashcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in a hostile cold war between humans and monsters, you've been left behind in the city of Ebott, cordoned off as a monster-zone. Too young and too penniless to move away, you survived solely on the kindness of Grillby, who gave you a job in secret for years.</p><p>But secrets never stay hidden for long in a city like Ebott. Especially not around a nosy, grinning skeleton who's decided not to be lazy for 'human-hunting' any longer. </p><p>On the surface, it's killed or be killed. No RESETs. No SAVEs. </p><p>a r e      y o u       r e a d y ?<br/>—<br/>my take on a darker aftermath of the true ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the color of fire

**Author's Note:**

> hi. i have no idea what i'm doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. i have no idea what i'm doing.

 

**The world is cruel.**

**It’s been crueler since monsters emerged onto the surface, out of nowhere, like creatures long buried in hell, to reclaim their territory.**

**Perhaps that was a tad dramatic. They were starry eyed, most of them, wandering into cities as they wanted. Like they were expecting to be welcomed, like they were expecting..**

 

**_You don’t know._ **

**You don’t understand monsters, after all. They’re like and unlike the monsters in movies. In short, nothing humans could comprehend.**

**And humans did what humans do best when encountered with something they didn’t know.**

 

 **They go to war.**  

 

The snow crunches underneath your thin boots, thin enough for you to feel the sting of the ice. Your cold, numb fingers grasp desperately at the scratchy, cheap winter coat to pull it closer around you. At least the furry hood offers some kind of insulation, little as it is.

 

**Things in Ebott had gone to shit since monsters started fighting (and failing) for their rights to exist among humans. At first, even humans rallied for them, despite their pathetic child ambassador (who would even think about letting a child represent them over such a delicate matter?).**

**But those humans were just a handful of those hippie types, the kinds that call for environmental changes and women’s rights but never really did anything except to go to these rallies.**

 

**Things were bound to crash and burn.**

 

You cursed when the frigid wind stung your eyes and cheeks, lowering your head as you continued on into the solemn, grey city. Mount Ebott towered over it in the distance, just a smidge of darker darkness amongst everything else. You wet your lips, and soldiered on.

 

**One of the monsters retaliated when a monster hate group attacked a rally, and the sight of magic knocking a couple of humans off their feet was disastrous. Like fire set to an ant’s nest, humans scattered, screaming, and all the news could report for months on end was how dangerous these monsters were. How those irresponsible, vile monsters left out the fact that their magic could hurt someone else. How humans were, pretty much, completely vulnerable to magic. All they could do was dodge.**

 

**They didn’t respond well to the fact they were no longer at the top of the food chain.**

 

The flickering neon sign in the distance gives you a spurt of energy. ‘GRILLBY’s’, in a fancy pink swirly font, blazes brightly even in the dusty fog swallowing the city.

Almost there.

The dead city wasn’t as dead as it appeared. Ebott was ninety percent monsters, and the breeding ground for shady, underground human-monster markets. Since Ebott and the smaller towns around it were cordoned off as monster-infested places, most things had fallen in ruin. No resources, no way to clean up the city. Dust and fog shrouds Ebott, and it only gets worse during the winter.

 

It certainly keeps the humans away. Well, the humans rich enough to move away.

 

And the humans looking for a place to hide.

 

You shiver involuntarily when your fingers close around the icy door handle, and you shove your shoulder against the heavy door. Fucking monsters and their strength. It gives with a creaking heave, and a bell tinkled sweetly.

 

It’s too cold to walk around the alleyway for the back door, and the bar is usually empty at this time. You’d take your chances with the boss.

 

The heat and quietness of the restaurant-bar is instant relief, and you carefully scrape the snow off your boots, lowering your hood. It’s empty, and darker than usual without your boss, quite literally, lighting up the place. You figure he must be in the kitchen.

 

“Hey boss,” you call out, your voice a little raspy from the cold. “I came a little earlier, I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“i sure don’t, doll.”

 

The unexpected, husky drawl makes you jump so high you could almost leap right onto the counter. Your cold fingers claw hard at your sweater instinctively, eyes flickering wildly over the shadows of the bar.

 

A hulking figure sits at one of the booths, back towards the door (that’s how you didn’t see them, that sneaky…!), and with a decidedly smug, toothy grin. The upper half of their face is blocked by the overcasting shadows in the dim bar, but two pinpricks of light that feel like eyes are staring right through you.

 

You shiver, toes curling in your boots in an attempt to stop the involuntary trembling. Though that might be from the sudden contrast of temperature between the bar and the winter cold, and not that you were thoroughly intimidated or _anything_ (ha!). Your voice seems detached, far away, like it’s not really your own.

 

“E-Excuse me, but we’re not o-open yet, sir.” Nice. A little high pitched and shaky, but steadier than you thought.

 

“i’m an old friend.” The mystery patron’s grin seems to grow even wider, his voice deep and rumbly and smooth. Like the narrator of a fantasy movie, but one who probably smoked a little too much and sounded far too smug.

 

“i haven’t seen you around before.” His voice pulls you back to the present, and you realise you should have made an excuse for gawking so rudely at him, gaping like a fish out of water. “a pretty face like yours is hard to forget.” He still sounds amused, but there’s a tinge of wariness in his tone.

 

 _You mean a human face like mine,_ you think, grimacing inwardly. You try to avoid his unwavering gaze, but he seems to have perfected the art of interrogating without sounding aggressive to someone else, yet aggressive enough to command an answer.

 

The crackling of fire and the sudden warm glow to the bar saves you from your speechless fish-mouth. Grillby is standing very still, fingers gripping the bar, head tilted slightly as he surveys the tense atmosphere. You feel panic prickling like hot coals at the back of your neck. (That's not a pun intended for Grillby.) His flames crackles, a quiet question.

 

The additional source of light lifts the shadows from the patron’s face, and you’re staring at a... _skeleton?_ But his skull is oddly shaped, a little dented at the side, and his eyes are strangely half-lidded (...how does that even work with bone?), lazy and mocking. His thick brown overcoat, a little scuffed and well worn, lends him a little more bulk.

 

Somehow he intimidates you more in the light. Especially with that cold gaze, making even his clown grin look sinister.

 

He lifts a brow (or at least his brow bone moves?) and you snap your mouth shut, trying to suppress the burning you feel creeping up your neck.

 

“I...I work here.” You tear your eyes away from the skeleton to gaze helplessly at Grillby, who returns your gaze impassively. “Um, I didn’t know we already had customers...and it was cold, so I came in by the front.”

 

Grillby sighs, or at least he exhales a mouthful of steam, but he waves you to the kitchen. You escape gratefully, hoping your ruddy cheeks could be blamed on the heat.

 

The low rumble of their conversation is not exactly hard to eavesdrop on, and you guiltily find yourself listening as you exchange your coat for your apron.

 

“started having a soft spot for humans, eh?” The teasing baritone sends a spark of irritation and embarrassment through you, but you edge closer to the fire escape to listen better. Your boss seems to have surrendered, giving a weary spark and a vague gesturing.

 

“ya never used to. slipping up?” There’s a low squeaking as Grillby starts cleaning glasses, and you swallow nervously. He’s already cleaned them once this morning, as according to his routine, and he only ever picks up clean glasses to wipe them _again_ when he feels distinctly uncomfortable. And calm, steady, rock-in-the-fucking tornado Grillby being rattled unnerves _you._

 

“you know her well?” A vague crackle. “and you give her a job near the knives, huh?” You bristle slightly. You hadn’t even thought of that. What use would that be anyway, against monsters who had magic?

 

“you’re so sure she wouldn’t do anything like that, huh?” There’s a low snort, and you frown instinctively, ready to conjure points to defend yourself. But the fire in your chest fades to nothing when you remember the ongoing cold war, ebbing away far too slowly, with monsters picking the short end of the stick. It’s not surprising that monsters would detest humans. 

 

But you still needed this job. He's not going to be strong-armed into firing you, is he? Anxiously, you press yourself closer to the edge of the door. 

 

“i wouldn’t trust someone that **_eavesdrops_ ** , though.” You flinch wildly at being caught, your face burning hot as you edge away from the fire escape, peeking out at the counter. The skeleton monster has moved to sit at the counter, his grin growing wider as his gaze catches yours. Grillby gives a low huff, fingers sliding under his glasses to massage where his nose bridge would be.

 

He’s disappointed. You get it.

 

“well, doll, anything to say for yourself?”

 

“If you wanna talk about me, you might as well say it to my face.” Your hand immediately grabs your wrist after to stop it from flying to cover your mouth. Where did that bravado come from? Besides that slight voice tremor. It’s too late to back out, so you force yourself to stare right back, but you focus on his mouth instead of his eerie gaze. Were those...canine teeth sharper than normal?

 

The skeleton gives a low, mock-impressed whistle, leaning back in his stool to give you a once over. Grillby is trying to bury his whole face into his palm.

 

“alright, alright. don’t get all **_heated_ ** up about it.” He pats Grillby’s arm with the back of his hand, and your boss looks like he’s contemplating leaving the counter altogether.

 

The skeleton offers his hand, and you eye it a little hesitantly. It’s...well...it’s _bone,_ after all.

“don’t ya know how to greet a new pal?” He drawls lazily, letting his hand dangle. Nervously, your gaze darts between the two monsters before you carefully wipe your hands down your apron, and step forward to shake his hand.

 

He’s warm, though it might be from the heat. And it doesn’t feel all bone, like he was wearing an invisible glove. It’s weird, but not unpleasant.

 

You offer your name, trying to stand as confidently upright as you could, though he seems unmoved. He rolls your name around his tongue, testing it, and gives you a sharp grin.

 

“sans.” He gives your hand a light shake, but he doesn’t release his grip. His gaze makes you feel as if he knows every single bad thing you've ever done in your life, and you squirm a little, even if you know that's impossible. 

 

“i’ll be keeping an eyesocket out for ya, kid. so don’t go screwing around, y’hear?” His eyes seem to be hollowed out for a second, and you flinch a little (just a little!!), immediately trying to tug your hand back.

 

“Y-yeah. Got it, man. Don't worry 'bout it.” Why was he so scared of a measly girl, anyway? It’s not like Grillby was defenseless. The two monsters made you look like a dwarf. If anything, they should laugh at the thought of someone like you being threatening.

 

He sees you struggling, and releases your hand, tucking it back into his pocket.

 

“i’ll have the usual.” He settles back more comfortably into his stool, grin easy and lazy like he hadn’t just lowkey threatened you. You swallow uncomfortably.

 

“T-The usual…?” You look over helplessly at your boss.

 

“what, you expanded your menu beyond fries and burgers?” Grillby gives him a look, and Sans holds his hands up in surrender. “i know, i know you did. shoulda figured you had a human running around in the kitchen when you had all this new fancy stuff popping up.” He gives you a leer, and you divert your glance to the glasses stacked behind the counter. “but i just want the usual. to go.”

 

You make a move towards the kitchen, but to your surprise, Grillby beats you to it, motioning to the bar and pointing at you. You stare at him beseechingly, apron twisted between your fingers.

 

_Please don’t leave me here alone!!_

 

But your boss disappears, and brings with him the warm, comforting light.

 

There’s a loud slurping behind you that makes you cringe, and you turn gingerly to find the skeleton...chugging a new bottle of ketchup. You bite your lip to make sure you don’t gape again like a dying fish, and his white pinpricks of eyes dart to you.

 

“want some?” You take an unnecessary step back at the almost empty ketchup bottle being shoved in your face.

 

“relax. didn’t mean to **_ketch_ ** all **_up_ ** in your face.” You give a hollow, almost strangled laugh at the hideously bad joke. God, you were a little more stressed out than you thought. “Good...good one.”

 

“thanks.” His grin gets a little wider. “welp.” He slides off the stool as Grillby emerges with a paper bag. You try not to stare at the skeletal hand crumpling the bag slightly.

 

“be seeing you around, kid.”

 

 _Not in a million years_ , you decide firmly, darting past Grillby into the safety of the fire escape. You hold your breath till you hear the door bell jingling, and all that’s left is Grillby’s displeased splutters at the squashed, empty ketchup bottle.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not in a million years, but probably the next day.
> 
> hey, you made it all the way here! thanks for reading. (✿╹◡╹)
> 
> um, i just kinda coughed it all up over a span of days, but i'm planning to play with the story as it goes. i'm...really new to fanfiction. (〃ﾟдﾟ〃)
> 
> any comments/feedback/constructive criticism would be welcomed! highly 'preciate it.
> 
> p.s. sorry for lack of puns + bad puns. i'm...learning...? （◞‸◟）


	2. the color of snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hOI.

You weren’t fired.

 

In fact, Grillby seemed to avoid you as much as you did him, not even making eye contact. You’ve worked here long enough to edge seamlessly into each other’s routines without saying a single word, but now it’s deliberately awkward silence instead of a comfortable quietness.

 

You cursed yourself for taking the front door. If only you’d braved the cold for just a moment longer. If only you hadn’t called out to him and just slipped into the kitchen as usual. If only you hadn’t been such an idiot and let your guard down (ever!) in a bar for monsters. Jeez, how stupid could you get?! What if that skeleton blabbed to the other monsters? What if Grillby’s gets shut down because they think he’s some nasty human sympathiser? What if he goes out of business and you are out of a job and you’re both kicked out to live in the streets because on _one fine day_ , _you couldn’t stand the cold for another thirty seconds?!_

 

Your self-hate was interrupted by order twenty five.  

 

Closing hour came earlier than you expected, and you’re surprised when you hear the smack of plastic against wood as Grillby flipped the ‘Closed’ sign. You’ve been studiously sweeping at a square of tile for the last ten minutes, having cleaned up the entire kitchen meticulously with all your nervous energy. You’re pretty proud of the way you arranged each and every plate by size. It was almost like an IKEA display of a kitchen (better, in your opinion). Maybe you could get a job there.

 

A crackle startles you again, and you turn to give Grillby your biggest, cheesiest grin.

 

“Heya, boss.” He gestures to your apron quietly. You could feel your heart drop all the way to your feet. Broom flung carelessly to the side, (there goes your IKEA career) you quickly struggle out if it, and handed it to him.

 

Maybe this was really it. You were really losing your job, after all.

 

He seems confused, but carefully exchanges your apron with a larger paper bag than usual. It smells delicious, savory and greasy. No matter how much you practiced, you couldn’t really reach Grillby’s standard for burgers and fries.

 

(Though you secretly suspect it has something to do with him being an actual fire.)

 

“That’s...a lot,” you commented casually, as you peeked inside the bag. Usually the warm aroma of fresh fries and steaming burgers would have you salivating, but your stomach just flops uneasily. Is this one last bonus before you’re jobless? Grillby is a pretty nice guy, after all.

 

There’s a short crackling, like someone clearing their throat, and Grillby leans down to see you eye to eye. He opens his mouth to speak, hushed and rumbly, like a quiet bonfire.

 

“ _Compensation.”_ He adjusts his glasses. _“For before.”_

 

“Compensation,” you squeak, the paper bag crumpling noisily under your grip. Your smile strains a little. “Y-You’re gonna let me go, boss?”

 

He looks surprised, eyes widening. _“No._ **_No._ ** _”_ He holds up his hands in defense, and you feel your shoulders slump with relief. _“Compensation. For not...defending you, earlier.”_ He straightens up, and looks a little...embarrassed? Ashamed? _“I was...I didn’t want to cause trouble. I am not ashamed of hiring humans.”_ He gestures to the paper bag, and gives you a tiny, apologetic smile. _“Hope you understand.”_

 

You gape at him for a moment, and barrel straight into him with a tight hug. He’s so steady, he barely even moves, just lifting his arms a little cautiously to give you more room. You’re so _relieved_ , he’s not even angry at you, all that worry for nothing…!

 

“ _I’m_ sorry! I should be sorry!” You release him quickly, (god, that was too unprofessional!!) almost bouncing in place with your relief and hurried apologies. “I-It was all my fault for walking through the front!! I’ll...I’ll always take the kitchen door from now on!”

 

A warm hand rests on top of your head, and your frenzied bouncing stills. He has an almost exasperated, fond look, and you feel guilt replacing your relief. Why was he being so nice...especially to a _human?_

 

“Um, thanks.” You raise the bag awkwardly. “Jun’s going to be thrilled.”

 

Grillby gives a pleased huff, and shoos you. You break into a grin, a genuine one this time, and grab your coat.

 

“See ya tomorrow, boss.”

 

The frigid winter wind doesn’t seem so unbearable with a warm paper bag hidden inside your coat.

 

Your dingy apartment building looks like it belongs to the a cheap horror movie set, all peeling paint and water stains. But it was the only place that would take humans. Hell, even monsters refused to live here, and what’s left of the residents here are mostly humans far too poor to move out of the city when the cold war started.

 

The lift is broken (not that you would try to get in that metal death trap even if it worked) so you have to hustle up four flights of stairs to get to your apartment. Thank god for having the foresight to choose an apartment on the lower floors.

 

The light sensors flicker on as they register your movement, and the corridor is echoing with the sound of you digging your keys furiously into the rusty keyhole. It takes a few practiced jiggles before it unlocks, and the warmth of the light and heat inside draws you in.

 

“Welcome back.”

 

A boy is perched on the kitchen counter, black stockinged feet carefully balancing books stacked upon each other. Slender hands flit over the braille dots, his mop of white hair flopping back as glazed over eyes gaze straight at you...or the general place you’re at.

 

“Jun-Jun!” He doesn’t even bother to correct you now, only sighing as you envelop him in a hug, stealing his warmth.

 

“You smell like fries,” he remarks, voice still and unmoving as always. He’s a hard kid to read, but you can still discern the hint of excitement. Fries are Jun’s guilty pleasure. He demolishes them so quickly you wonder where it all goes in that slender, ghost-like body.  

 

“My hard earned wages has brought home the dough,” you sigh dramatically. “Come and eat, my child.” You ruffle his already tousled hair, and set the precious paper bag onto the table. It’s already been set, and you feel a pang, knowing that Jun must have been waiting a while. Sometimes it bothers you that he’s all alone in the house for hours on end, but you have to work to pay the bills. And you can’t exactly bring another human to bother Grillby with.

 

He takes a seat next to you as you divide the spoils, and the air warms even more with the smell of food.

 

You load up his plate with a bigger portion of fries, though you know it doesn’t really make up for the fact he’s been alone for hours. It’s hard. It’s always hard to live through any kind of war, especially with the fickleness of humans. When the residents of Ebott fled, not everyone could follow. Some were too poor to find somewhere else to live. Some couldn’t bear to.

 

And most were...abandoned. The elderly. The disabled. The terminally ill. Children. It was a cheap, quick way to dispose of any additional burdens, to start a life anew. Perhaps Ebott was a place that brought out the worst in humans.

 

But, you weren’t abandoned! Sure, your parents were at work when the sudden evacuation was announced, and you couldn’t get home due to the traffic. They must have just missed your call, and missed you at school when they had packed and evacuated. You felt like a fool for leaving. Sometimes you wished you just stayed at school with your teachers, instead of insisting to go home. They must miss you so much, and they had to be looking for you, even though they never answered their phones. Maybe it just got lost in the rush to evacuate. Yeah! Both of them must have lost their phones.. Sure, they were sometimes really mean and they hurt you, but they wouldn’t leave you to _die,_ right? That’s a little too much for them.

 

_Right?_

  


“Your fries will get soggy if you cry over them.”

 

You startle, realising you’ve been sniffling over your food. Damn kid and his four other heightened senses. It seemed that being blind only made him more observant.

 

“Am not crying,” you insisted. He gives you a look. (How does he do that with glazed over eyes?) “...I just miss my family.”

 

Jun shifts in his chair, looking a little uncomfortable. You’ve told him all the unfortunate backstory before, and every time you mention it he shifts and does this uncomfortable little side-glance, like there’s something he knows but refuses to say. At first, you thought it might just be because he’s scared of being abandoned every time you insist your family’s going to come back for you, so you reassure him that you’d definitely take him along. Something about lost kids stickin’ together, even though you’re almost twenty now.

 

God, it’s almost been five years since! Jun was barely a kid back then, a tiny seven year old drenched from the downpour. He came out of nowhere, standing in the alleyway next to your building like a ghost; white hair, pale face, and what looked like tattered white scrubs. He came right up to you, fearlessness in his empty, milky eyes, and said,

 

_“You smell like fries.”_

 

You’d stopped screaming after you realised he was a human. And...that he probably wasn’t going to eat you. That memory was still kinda embarrassing for you.

 

You stuff your mouth with fries and chew loudly, right next to his ear. “SEEF? UHM EATIN’. Don’t worry, kiddo.” He gives a grimace and shoves your face away.

 

“Gross.”

 

“You can’t even **_see_ ** me eat, what-”

 

The doorbell rings, and the both of you freeze in place despite yourselves. The doorbell has _never_ rung since you moved in here. Your rent has been regularly paid since you started working at Grillby’s, and your neighbours hardly gave you a second glance. There wasn’t anyone you could think of.

 

_And especially at this time._

 

You shift out of your seat, and Jun’s pale, slender hand sneaks over to grip yours tightly.

 

“Don’t.” His quiet voice is tinged with urgency.

 

“I know,” you whisper, rolling your eyes even if he can’t see. You try to ease your hand out of his death grip (god, how could a scrawny kid be so strong?) “I’m just gonna peek.”

 

You slip quietly right up to the door, and flip open the peephole. Hm. Nothing but darkness. Must be some stupid prank. You turn around to Jun, ready to announce the false alarm, when something crashes so hard into the door it shoves you forward.

 

Your hands clamp over your mouth on instinct, to stop the yelp from escaping your lips.

 

_W-What the fuck?_

 

Jun is by your side in an instant, hands trying to pull you away from the door. You quickly steer him behind the weathered couch, the both of you huddling together like frightened rabbits.

 

Oh, why _this? Why now?_ You were so sure you hadn’t made any enemies. Unless that big stinkin’ bag of bones rattled on you, there wasn’t any-

 

There’s the sound of a grunt and a cut off shout, and something...dragging…? Something heavy being dragged along the concrete floor outside the door. _A body,_ your mind supplies, and you shiver, trying to shake off the horrifying thought. Maybe monsters finally had enough and were taking it out on the humans in this building.

  


Two quick, quiet knocks interrupt the terrified silence.

 

**“knock knock.”**

 

Fuck. You’d recognise that lazy baritone anywhere. _How did he find you?! How could you not have noticed you were being followed?_

 

He knows you’re in here. You have to say something!

 

“Who’s there?” You call out so softly, you’re not sure he could hear. Maybe if you pretend you don’t know who it is, they’ll go away. Right? Right? You’re too panicked to think of what else to do.

Jun’s grip tightens almost painfully around you. You squeeze him back, curling over him.   

 

“house.” ...Is this a joke?! Is that an actual knock knock joke? What the fu—

 

“House...w-who?” Your face heats with embarrassment immediately after. What the hell is he even doing?! What are  ** _you_ ** doing?

 

There’s a jiggling from the other side, the key hole rattling as if someone was trying to force it open. Horrified, you watch as it stops, clicks and _turns._ The door swings open easily, revealing a smug, toothy grin and a large brown overcoat almost filling up the width and height of the door. Pinpricks of light brightened in their eye sockets, canines glinting almost predatorily as he spots the two quivering figures cowering behind the couch.

 

**“house call.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woa, thank you all for your kudos!! you are all really kind & generous!! (*￣∇￣*) 
> 
> sorry for lack of sans here. (-﹏-。) trying to build a decent backstory is taking longer than i thought. and i ramble a lot. my chapters run kinda long because i wanna include so many things...so thank you for having the patience!! 
> 
> as you can guess, next chapter's gonna be fulla sans. a whole sansful? first up close and personal encounter with the big bad monster! i'm working hard on the chapter already (▰∀◕)ﾉ stay tuned?
> 
> thanks for reading!! (✿╹◡╹)


	3. the color of ketchup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the sansful chapter of sans.  
> i think my brain is fried trying to make this make sense. ( ◢д◣)
> 
> comments/criticism are greatly welcomed!

Your body has solidified to ice, you’re sure of it.

 

It’s like the winter cold outside has found its way inside of you, burying beneath your skin, freezing your limbs to the floor. It only intensifies as the skeleton ducks his head, making his way into the dingy apartment casually.

 

What’s that reddish brown stain on the edges of his coat? M-Mud!! It must be mud!

 

Mud in the frozen winter tundra out there...?

 

Anything is possible!! Stop freaking yourself out!

 

“H-Hey!” Your voice is one pitch away from cracking, but you stand up, wobbly and knock-kneed. Jun moves to press himself behind you, and his small hand intertwined with yours gives you a flare of courage.

 

You still have someone to protect.

 

“D-Don’t just waltz in here as you please!” He ignores you as he surveys the apartment, eyes calculating and blank. He looks over the blank walls, the worn-smooth wooden floors, and the rocky, scuffed dining table, his gaze lingering longest on the abandoned food. His hands are still stuffed into his coat pockets. Is he still cold even in the apartment? Well, Sans _is_ a skeleton, so maybe he doesn't have body heat-

 

_Don’t go worrying about him! You should worry about yourself!_

 

“Hey!” His eyes finally slide sideways, staring down at you. He takes a step towards you, and you instinctively step backwards, shoving Jun behind you.

 

Unfortunately, Jun didn’t seem to get the memo, and you tripped over each other’s feet, falling backwards.

 

“ **whoops.** ”

 

That low, mocking voice is now directly behind you, purring next to your ear. You shriek, and try to twist away as you feel leather gloved hands supporting both you and Jun. They let go surprisingly easily, and you turn, your fists raised and your teeth gritted.

 

It falters a little once you size him up. Oh, how pathetic. The top of your head just barely reaches his collarbones (it doesn’t, really), and he has to tilt his head down to give you his usual mocking grin.

 

“i just saved you, and you’re going to hurt me?” He places a gloved hand over his chest. “ouch.”

 

“Saved?!” Can anyone blame you if your voice goes a little hysterical? But you remember Jun, and you lower your voice to a hiss so you don't scare him even more. 

 

“You...you break into my house, uninvited! You scare the fuck out of my family, f-for no reason!!” The more you spout, the hotter the anger burns in your chest, and you lean forward to jab at his chest with each point. “You make a ruckus outside my door late at night and you act like a fucking psycho! I-If this place were still filled with humans, I-I’d-”

 

“but it’s not,” he interrupts smoothly. His smile is more even now, calmer. You don’t like it at all. “it’s filled with **_monsters. like me._ ** ” You falter a little, and Sans leans down to meet your gaze, his voice both teasing and curious.

 

“so, what’ll you do about it, doll?”

 

_Smack!_

 

Jun’s hand thrusts out, splayed over San’s face. He’d must have meant to shove Sans back, but couldn’t see that Sans had lowered himself, and his hand had shoved itself right onto the monster's face.

 

 _“Lee Jun Yi!”_ You snatch his hand away in horror, and he winces. Oh, he must have smacked it so hard that it hurt…It was flushed so red! And...the red came away strangely easily…?

 

Oh, that must have been the dried leftover ketchup. You grimace, forgetting how much of a messy eater Jun was. You tapped his wrist twice sternly, and turned to face your demise.

 

...who currently looked a lot _less_ intimidating with a red hand print right smack in the middle of his face.

 

You splutter, and clap your hand over your mouth to stop your cackle. But it escapes anyway in a snort, even as San’s confused gaze turns a little irritated.

 

“what, somethin’ on my face?”

 

Oh, definitely the wrong thing to say. The dam breaks, and you laugh so hard you double over, clutching at your middle. He directs a confused glare to Jun, but he’s giving you the same perplexed look.

 

“W-Wait...waitwaitwait…” You straighten yourself, trying to smother your laughter into giggles, and reach your hands up towards him. Now it’s his turn to lean back, looking a little nervous.

 

“C’mere.” He gives your wriggling fingers a dubious glance, and even Jun tugs anxiously at your sweater, confused at this sudden change of atmosphere. “Just...c’mere.”

 

His jaw barely fits into your palm, and he’s warm to the touch. Alive. It surprises you, but only for a moment as you lick your thumb and wipe a streak of ketchup off his cheek.

 

“Jun got ketchup all...all over your...your face,” you explain, struggling to speak between your laughter. “See?” You hold up your thumb.

 

He eyes it for a moment suspiciously, and before you can register, a blue _(blue!!)_ tongue flickers out from between his teeth and swipes your thumb clean of it.

 

“hm. that’s ketchup alright.” You flush all the way up to your ears, snatching your hand back and scrubbing it furiously against your pants.

 

“What the hell?!” You turn to Jun to share your grievances, and he turns automatically to you. He’s memorised your body language by now, and sometimes he responds as if he could see you, which was kind of amazing. “He licked me, did you...!!”

 

He registers the information for a moment, then shrugged. “I didn’t see anything.”

 

“Oh my god, Jun,” you groan. “I didn’t mean to say it like  _that_.”

 

The sound of San’s deep-bellied laugh pulls your attention again. He seems almost surprised at his own laughter. But he’s focused on Jun this time, his smile neither mocking nor devious.

 

“a fellow ketchup lover, huh? i can appreciate that.”

 

_Really?_

 

The tense atmosphere seems to have lightened slightly, and you suddenly realise how drained you are from all the explosive emotions. Stepping back, you let yourself fall onto the couch, hand running through your hair to brush it out of your face.

 

After all, if Sans were really here to get rid of the both of you, you’d probably not be around to laugh anymore.

 

Jun follows you, perching himself onto the thick armrest. He settles his hand on your shoulder for comfort, and you lean into him out of habit.

 

“So? Why are you here?”

 

He keeps his grin (doesn’t he ever stop smiling?) and carefully lowers himself onto the low coffee table in front of you. It lets him see you eye to eye, and you realise he’s not really trying to intimidate you anymore.

 

“i keep tabs on all the humans in this city.” He removes a glove, and uses it to wipe the ketchup off his face.

 

You cross your arms and huff. “Do you need to scare the life out of them, too?”

 

“some of them.” There’s that blank, hollowed look you hate. You look away, fingers fiddling with your sleeves.

 

“ _Why?_ We’re just a handful of humans...it’s not like we could hurt you if we tried! You’re all so much bigger, and you have magic! I think you could wipe out all the humans in this city if you wanted.” You immediately slap your hand over your mouth, and you can feel Jun tense up next to you.

 

_Stop giving him bad ideas!_

 

His grin widens at your obvious slip, but he only leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, glove clutched loosely in one hand. “there’s no need to resort to that, eh?”

 

You shake your head fervently, not trusting your big mouth.

 

“i just keep tabs on ‘em. personal tabs. humans are...complicated.” He taps the side of his skull. “i can’t afford to be lazy anymore, y’know? so, humans are on a...case-by-case basis in this city.”

 

You frown at him, not understanding.

 

“So...for our case? Do we pass, then?” You try for a lighthearted tone, but he seems to be completely solemn as he surveys Jun and you.

 

“maybe.” You grumble at the ambiguous answer. “but the man outside your 'partment certainly doesn’t.”

 

You freeze, remembering the hard slam against the door, and the slow dragging. That...that really was a body...?

 

“humans are pretty territorial, even over a fucking building.” He grins, but it seems more tired, more of a grimace if you look closely. “guess i get the memo, that monsters are not welcome here.” Jun’s squeezes your shoulder, and you pat his hand gently. “even in cities designated for monsters, we still have to look over our backs at every turn.”

 

“I’m sorry,” you offer, brows furrowing, and after a beat, hesitantly, “Is he…” You couldn’t really bring yourself to finish the sentence.

 

San’s gaze is dark. “it doesn't concern you. don’t you worry your pretty little head.” You huff at the deprecating name, blinking in surprise as he gets up.

 

“Um.” You give Jun’s hand another reassuring pat, and trail after him to the door. The lock glows a soft blue. It jiggles like how you move it with your key, but gives a rolling click like it’d never rusted.

 

“fixed it. sorry, i had to enter in a hurry.” Your head snaps up at him with an incredulous look. Was he... _apologising?_

 

“Um,” you repeat, hands wringing together anxiously. “...you’re not gonna leave us alone, are you? We're...peaceful humans. Promise.” Sans pauses just outside the door, and turns to cast an unreadable glance down at you.

 

“like i said. case by case.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “i’ll be keeping a close eye on you two. but if you don’t hurt any monsters, i’ll leave you alone to your business.”

 

Somehow, it doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

 

“But why _now?”_ You stomp your feet a little, frustrated. “We’ve been living here for _years,_ and we’ve never gotten into any trouble, I swear!”

 

 **“years?”**  

 

  
You flinch at the incredulous, displeased tone of his voice, hands clutching at the door frame.

 

He scans the apartment again, looking at it like he’s seeing it for the first time. You've never seen his smile falter before.  

 

Then it returns in full force, showing off his sharp canines.

 

“something’s hiding ya pretty well.” You make a confused noise, frustrated at his stupid, vague answers.

 

“Yeah, it’s called a door. And a run down shit place no one gives a second look to.”

 

He gives a halfhearted laugh, but his look changes when he stares down at your genuinely bewildered face, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “ya don’t know.”

 

“I don’t know what?!” you snap, hands on your hips. “Stop being so vague, your pretense at being mysterious is annoying as hell!”

 

But he’s no longer paying attention to you, staring past your head at Jun, who’s picking sadly at the cold fries on the table.

 

You look between them, but the answer doesn’t seem clear or visible to you at all.

 

Instead, you fixate on the red streak of ketchup he missed, just in the corner his eye socket. You reach out impulsively to wipe it away.

 

Aaaand...you’re too short to reach.

 

Sans’ gaze darts to your outstretched fingers, and gives a little chuckle. “touchy, aren’t ya. you’ve really **_fallen_ ** for me, eh?”

 

You feel like your cheeks are burning hotter than Grillby’s at the mocking pun. You snatch your hand back quickly, clutching at it as if you’re trying to stop it from doing stupid things again.  

 

“don’t worry, doll face. since you’re on a ‘maybe’, i’ll be coming ‘round to check on you pretty often, if ya want.” He’s leaning against the door frame, one arm braced above your head as he bends to your height, making you feel minuscule and vulnerable all at once. Your gut churns with a strange emotion.

 

“maybe we could even make it a date. i’d love to know more about you, since i’ve missed out on all those _years_ _—_ ”

 

You didn't think you face could burn any hotter at his suggestive tone.

 

“I was going to be the bigger person and help someone in need and clean the ketchup you missed so now I guess you can walk around with it instead you big idiot!” You interrupt shrilly, refusing to look him in the eye at all costs. Where is the embarrassment coming from? What the fuck…?! What were you even embarrassed about?

 

“ _you’re_ one to talk. you look like you’ve got ketchup all over your face.”  You stiffen as his fingers gently cup your face and squeeze your cheeks together, snickering as your lips are forced into a fishy pout. Something blue flickers in the corner of your vision, and you look up to see his tongue running quickly over his front teeth before disappearing back into his grinning mouth.

 

He’s making fun of you! He’s definitely making fun of you!!

 

You wrench your face out of his grip (why did you just freeze there and let him do that to you like an idiot?!), turning to slam the door in his face, hands braced against the wood. What...what the hell was his problem?! First he tried to scare you, and now he’s trying to ask you out? Is that how he’s making amends? By pretending to be friends all of a sudden? Were all monsters like that?  

 

“so...is that a no to the date?” His voice comes from behind the door,  a little muffled. But nothing could muffle that fucking mockery in his tone.

 

“Get lost, ketchup face!” Alright, that wasn’t the best, but it was all you could come up with right now.

 

His low laugh through the door grates on your nerves, and you fling yourself away and onto the couch, muffling your screaming into the worn cloth.

 

You hear Jun’s quiet footsteps towards you, and brace yourself for the embarrassing questions.

 

“My fries are cold.” He sounds almost mournful, and it’s enough to make you pick your head up from your shame spiral. Oh, shit. You'd missed dinner completely.

 

“Sure, buddy. I’m sorry I forgot about dinner.” You squeeze his shoulders and steer him back into the kitchen. “Let’s heat them up for you.”

 

“That monster...he’s not going to leave us alone, is he?” Jun’s voice is quiet as usual, but he sounds a little wary, fearful. You don’t blame him.

 

“No, I don't think so,” you admit. “But! I won’t let him do anything to us! I know how to handle that oversized, pompous Halloween decoration.” False bravado. If he really wanted to do anything, you doubt you’d be able to stop him. But still! Jun needed reassurance right now, didn’t he?

 

He’d already tuned out, sneaking soggy, cold fries into his mouth.

 

_“Jun!”_

 

Neither of you noticed the white card slipped under the door, and the gradual footsteps fading away.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwaa!! so mysterious?!
> 
> thanks for reading! (*´∀`*)
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. i don't know why the author's notes below from the first chapter still shows up. i can't fix it...it's annoying me.


	4. the color of night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i updating too quickly? i'm just excited to share some fluff with you guys! (っ´∀｀)っ
> 
> hope this might be a little comforting or fun to read, if you're going through hard times.  
> enjoy.  
> ﾟ∀ﾟ

You can’t run fast enough.

Your feet pound the gravel floor, chest squeezing painfully as you wheeze, trying to draw oxygen into your burning lungs. Oh, you were so close! You could see the familiar, cherry-red car just ahead, just a few hundred meters away, partially blocked by people shoving and jostling past you, eager to get out of the city.  

Your school bag is so heavy, too heavy, bouncing against your back as you sprint.

“W-Wait for me!!” you shout, watching two figures load their luggage into the trunk. “Please, wait!”

They should hear you, but they don’t give any indication of it. Your heart drops as they enter the car, and the engine roars to life.

“M-Mom!! Dad! I’m here!” You throw your troublesome bag down onto the road, waving your hands in the air so wildly, you might as well flag down a plane. “Mom! Dad! Can you see me? I-I’m right here!!”

 

The car eases off the path and drives off smoothly, and you can feel it taking your hopes with it. But you chase the car desperately, determinedly, even as the distance widens between you. Your calves are burning, hands outstretched desperately.

Like you could _catch_ it, if you just try hard enough.

Just a little more, c’mon!!

 

“M-Mom! Dad! I’m here! I’m over here! Please wait for me! _Please!!”_

The car is but a little red speck in the distance, no bigger than a ladybug.

 

**_“Please!”_ **

 

Your eyes try to follow it till it disappears into white light, bright light, completely swallowed up by…

 

Oh.

 

Your eyes flicker open wearily, and the light in your dreams dissipates into the faint sunlight trailing in from the half-boarded up windows. You bring your hand up to block the light, basking in the quiet peace of darkness for a moment. The blankets are tangled tight around your legs, which must have caused the sensation of running with lead on your legs. Slowly, you prop yourself up on your elbows, rubbing your hand over your face. Those vivid dreams always left you empty, drained and a little disorientated.

The cheap, cutesy pink alarm on your table informs you it’s seven thirty in the morning, much earlier than you usually wake. Thankfully, it’s a weekday, so Grillby doesn’t need you till the late afternoon.

Still, lying in bed all sweaty and awful, feeling the residues of anxiety prickling at your chest, is a terrible idea. You can’t go back to sleep like this.

 

You stagger out of bed for a shower.

 

The hot water feels like heaven on your skin, but it also makes you more awake. Your thoughts can’t help but drift to the horrid dream, and you shake your head roughly, water splattering onto the shower curtain. No! Thinking about it won’t change anything. The best you could do now is to survive until that cherry red car cruises down the city again, looking for you. You’re sure of it.

Renewed, you dump your clothes into the hamper and pad around the kitchen, heating water on the stove for instant coffee. There isn’t much in your pantry, only the handful of leftover groceries that don’t meet Grillby’s standards. Sometimes he insists on letting you take some of the fresh groceries, knowing how shitty the human-run market is. It’s only around the corner, dusty and faded, filled with produce that’s almost rotten and cartons a day away from expiring.

You try to pay Grillby for his groceries sometimes, knowing he wakes up earlier than anyone to get the freshest produce. Sometimes he accepts your gold, sometimes he doesn’t. You secretly suspect he takes it only to placate you, because sometimes you find the gold pieces back in your purse when you get home.

Sneaky, slippery, _wonderful_ Grillby.

The memory of his kindness chases the ghosts of your dream lingering around you, and you breathe in deeply, feeling determined as you stare at the pile of vegetables and the small, fat sack of rice. It seems to be slumped over sadly, looking small and pathetic in the already narrow pantry.

“C’mon, why the slump, mister rice bag?” You poke at its round tummy rolls. “It’s breakfast time!”

 

Well, porridge it is. A warm stew of vegetables and rice for a cold winter’s day.

 

Humming as you prepare the vegetables, you keep a close eye on the metal pot bubbling on the stove. You rub your feet against your calves absently to get rid of the cold.

“It’s your turn, mister rice bag!” You hold it up at the edges, making it do a funny little walk across the counter to the stove. Poking a knife at the sack, you puff out your cheeks and make your voice as deep and goofy as possible.

 

“Oh no!” you boom. “Please have mercy! I don’t want to die!”

“Too late, mister rice bag!” You cackle, digging the serrated blade into the sack. “You’re my breakfast now!”

“Noooo!” Your deep rice bag voice wails dramatically, making gurgling choking noises as the rice spills over the knife.

 

“You’re up early.”

 

Your deep wail cuts off with a squeak, and your head jerks up to see Jun perched on the table in his night clothes. His curls are wildly tousled and sticking out at strange angles, like a wind-blown dandelion. He reminds you of a little snow owl, large, glazed eyes blinking at nothing as he rubs his sleeve over his nose sleepily.

“Jun! Good morning!” You greet cheerfully, trying to downplay your embarrassment. “I, uh, I didn’t see you there.”

“Neither did I.” That kid didn’t even miss a beat. You grumble at his stupid joke.

“I’m making breakfast. It’s vegetable and rice stew!”

“So...like porridge.”

“Stew sounds a little more appetising, doesn’t it?”

“If you say so.” He props his chin on his hands, and looks a little downtrodden. “Are you going in early today? I thought you didn’t have to.”

“I’m not,” you reassure him. “I just thought of making breakfast early, so we’ll have more time to hang out!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” You scoop up the spilled rice. “We haven’t spent time together recently. What’d you wanna do? We can do anything you like!”

“Sightseeing.”

_“Jun.”_

 

The both of you end up sprawling over the couch, legs tangled and heads pressed together. You’re retelling him your past misadventures from school, from before the war, and even though you must have repeated this story a hundred times before, he closes his eyes and smiles like he’s never heard it before.

“Tell me again, about the sky from before.”

‘The sky from before’ meant the weather before the war, and you ranted about it once when you had to board the windows up against the dust and snow storms. He’d asked you what it looked like before, and you found yourself stumped trying to describe the sky to someone who’d never seen colors.

Still, nothing was impossible! You always found a way. Jun waits expectantly, like it’s the highlight even though he knows your descriptions by heart.

 

“Dawn is soft, like cashmere, like waking up slowly on downy pillows. Like cotton candy melting on your tongue. The morning sky is bright, fresh, like stepping out of a shower.” Your hands trail absently in his downy curls. “It wakes you up, shakes you awake, like going on an adventure after a hot breakfast!” He hums thoughtfully, and you grin. “Afternoon is like standing in front a huge oven, intense and ablaze, like swallowing a hot drink and burning your throat.”  

He shifts closer, and you curl yourself around his warm, sleepy body. “And dusk,” he prompts.

“Dusk is like fading smoke. It’s like the smell of earth after rain. Soothing, like a cold drink after walking for miles. Like falling asleep to the sound of the television.” He smiles contentedly. He really likes the description of dusk. “And the night is...oh, _shoot!_ ”

He lifts his head as you disentangle yourself from him. “It’s already three! I’m going to be late for work!”

Clothes haphazardly thrown on, hair finger combed, you make a mad dash for the door. Jun already has your bag and shoes ready, standing next to the door. You felt a jab of guilt.

 

“Thanks, Jun.” You brush a fleeting kiss across his temple as you struggle into your shoes (multi-tasking master!). “Sorry, I forgot the time. I’ll see you later.”

A tiny smile flits across his face, and you’re relieved he doesn’t seem disappointed. “See you later.”

You burst out of the house, hood up and head lowered, ready to brave the winter cold again.

 

Jun shuts the door behind you. The apartment is silent and cold without your chatter, and he presses his head against the wooden door, bare feet freezing on the wooden floor.

_“This is what the night feels like.”_

His cold feet brush against something sharp and crisp, tucked underneath your extra pair of shoes. He bends over, slender fingers carefully skimming the floor until they find it. 

 

It’s a card.

 

__________________

 

Grillby’s isn’t too crowded yet when you slip in from the kitchen door. He in the kitchen working the grill, and he crackles a greeting as you step in, pink cheeked and panting from your run. He tilts his head at you questioningly.

“Sorry! I kinda...lost track of time.”

He brushes away your apology like it’s nothing, and hands over the orders. Nothing too complicated yet, it seemed like you’d just missed the first customer by a few minutes.

 

_“Take it easy.”_

 

You give him a grateful smile. “Thanks, boss. I’ll get to it.”

You lose yourself in the cooking, fingers flying over everything at once; stirring, dicing, mixing, tasting. It’s easy to not think about anything when your full attention is required. The kitchen here is much warmer and cosier than your apartment’s, and it fills you with a soft, warm calm as you immerse yourself in garnishing a stack of pancakes.

You pull a dangling string right next to the tiny food window, bell tinkling. Grillby appears, only his vest visible, and his hands reach in carefully to collect the plate. From the quietness outside, you guess the place’s still pretty empty.

The oven beeps, timed just right, and you hurry over to drag the delicate pastries out before they burn.

 

“looks good.”

 

Your heart leaps into your mouth, hands flinging your precious pastries to the air, and you bite your lip so hard you can taste the coppery salt of blood on your tongue.

Your pastries are suspended in the air with a clear blue glow, just like the one he used on your lock. The tray floats to the table, and your pastries plop safely onto it one by one.

Sans is leaning against the counter opposite you, wide grin in place, but he’s taken his overcoat off. His black sweater is rolled up to his elbows, and your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his exposed arms. His bones are thicker and wider than normal, almost the size of arms with flesh, and you can see his sweater stretched over his chest ever so slightly, like it’s a struggle to contain him.

Well, he is a monster, after all. Maybe he’s not a human skeleton, but a humanoid skeleton.

That makes sense, right? No human could have bones like that. They looked like they could smash through wood.

 

“a picture might last longer.”

 

He was just standing there enjoying the way you gawked at him, that bastard!

“What are you even doing here?! H-How did you even get _in_ here?” you hiss. You feel a lot braver with the kitchen table between you and Sans.

“what, no thanks?” He gives you an overly sorrowful look. “after i saved your hard work, and all that trouble i went through to see you, too.”

“What trouble?” You give him a scornful look, careful not to turn your back on him as you retrieve the icing bag. He snorts as you walk sideways, hands fumbling for the bag without lifting your gaze off him. “Isn’t that kinda your job? To _keep tabs?”_ You bend over the pastries, carefully making little white rosettes.

“ya caught me.” He’s moved off the counter, sauntering towards the table, but you’re immersed in your perfect little icing swirls. His elbows made a soft thud as he braces himself on the table, dipping his head to reach your height. “but i’m here to get my answer.”

“Answer?” You wrinkled your nose, scrubbing at it absently with your wrist before carefully starting on a new pastry.

“about our **_date._ ** ”

Your head snaps up, sharp retort ready on your tongue. But you find yourself bumping foreheads, staring into his wide, bright eyes, just as surprised as you are. His breath puffs out hotly against your lips, and heat singes your cheeks instantly as you stumble back, the trail of icing dripping from the tray to the floor.

 

“n **_ice_ ** going, **_sugar_ ** ,” he drawls, but he’s staring at the mess instead of you. You clutch the icing bag to your chest, willing the mortification to go away.

“And whose fault is that, ketchup face?! Don’t get so close!” Woah, that must be a new record for how high your voice could go. It even cracked at the end.

His head dips even further, hiding his expression, but his broad shoulders are shaking slightly.

Is he…? He _is!_ He’s laughing at you!

 

“S-Stop that!!” Oh, at least one third of the pastries are covered in far too much icing, and it’s dripping to the floor, forming a mushy puddle. Grillby was going to be so mad, icing wasn’t cheap around here!

 

_Plop!_

Something exploded in your hands. _Oh no, the icing bag!!_ You must have accidentally squeezed it too hard while you freaked out. Majority of it had burst open all over you, dripping from your face and sliding coldly down your neck. The empty bag sits limply in your hands, and you want to scream at it. There was nothing left to save at all!

“P-Peh!” you splutter, trying to wipe excess icing off your mouth, death glare at the ready. Is this retribution the ketchup incident? Sans must be laughing his ass off by now, that asshole!

 

...Except he’s not. He’s staring at you, the lights in his eyes bright and focused, following the icing as it drips and trails a path down your neck, over your collarbones. He seems to have completely frozen over, crouched in the same position. The kitchen is silent as you try to decipher what the hell happened to him, while he doesn’t move an inch.

Is icing a monster’s kryptonite or something? That _can’t_ be, someone ordered this to eat.

The silence is broken by the door swinging open, and the kitchen lights up brighter as Grillby steps in. He assesses the mess with wide eyes, looking from you to Sans.

 _“Boss.”_ You didn’t mean to sound so helpless (you meant to sound guilty!!), your hands clutching the empty icing bag to your chest. Grillby takes a concerned step towards you.  

A sudden low, dark growl rumbles loudly all around the kitchen, and you can feel it deep inside your chest, rattling you. It’s warning, dangerous, and you feel yourself tense up, petrified. Wha...Where did that come from?

Grillby has stopped, too, retracting the hand reaching out for you. He’s giving Sans a strange look. Did that weird engine rumble growl come from _Sans?_

God, he’d chatted with you so casually, you’d almost forgotten he’s a monster. And you’re human. So very, very delicately human.

 

As soon as the rumble fades, San’s cheekbones tinge a faint, pale blue. He looks...stunned that he made that sound. The almost embarrassed look on his face would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t quite so alarmed.

 

“...Sans?”

“what.” His snap is startling, but he looks a little guilty as you flinch back. He rubs the back of his neck irritably as he straightens up, unhooking his coat and slinging it over his shoulder. “...it was my fault.” He gestures to the mess with a bony hand, and you feel your jaw drop at the admission. “feel free to put it on my tab.”

You feel a little sheepish. It was partially your fault for overreacting, anyway. You shake your head at Grillby, and jog a little to catch up with Sans at the kitchen door, wiping most of the mess off with the apron. He’s trying to pretend you’re not there. It was kinda funny, in a way, seeing the big bad monster so uncomfortable.

“Sans?”

“mh.” He pauses just outside the door, then looks like he hates himself for stopping. He makes a fuss out of putting his coat on.

“Did I...upset you?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, doll.”

“I didn’t mean to make such a fuss.”

A low chuckle. “i’d be surprised if ya didn’t.”

“I didn’t know you hated icing. I’m sorry.”

  
This time, he turns to you, giving you an incredulous look, like he can’t comprehend what you’re saying.

“What? I don’t.” You ball up your apron shyly. “But I can learn. Now I know!”

He grumbles under his breath, eyes rolling, and turns to stomp off. Wow.

“I guess that’s a no to our _date_ , huh?” you call out after him.

He jerks, like he’s been slapped, and the kitchen door slams in your face, lock glowing blue as it twists shut. Somehow, a silly grin fights its way to your face for no reason. 

 

_Rude._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess sans is leaving without dessert? _(:3｣∠)_
> 
> a little fluff before shit starts going down. hold on to your hats, beauties & gentlebeauties! 
> 
> real drama!!  
> real action!!  
> real bloodshed!!
> 
> stay tuned? (▰∀◕)ﾉ
> 
> thanks for reading!!
> 
> rip mister rice bag. always in my thoughts U - U


	5. the color of pumpkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was getting too long, so i saved some of it for the next chapter that's coming up real soon. like, in a few days maybe? 
> 
> thank you guys for all your lovely comments!! they make me so happy that i smile like an idiot in public while i read 'em and people think i have a secret boyfriend or somethin'. haha. （￣∀￣；）
> 
> your kind words fill me with D E T E R M I N A T I O N ヽ(•̀ω•́ )ゝ✧

_Where is it?_

 Jun pauses in the middle of his room, a little frustrated. Books have been overturned, scattered on the floor, cupboards open. He wrenches the duvet off his bed, and smooths over it wildly with his fingers.

 _Thunk!_ He winces as his fingers hit something hard and plastic. Found it! It's the old laptop you used while you were in school. It takes a while to reboot each time, but he's nothing if not patient.

It’s not like there’s really anything else to do.  

He fiddles with the card absently, fingers tracing the ink markings over and over. Whoever wrote the message had pressed the nib so hard into the card that Jun can trace each letter. It's a web address, he can tell, but it doesn't seem to belong to any popular webpage he knows of.

The computer gives a quiet _bloop_ as it finishes, and Jun sets the card down, fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced finesse. It took him just a few days to memorise the individual alphabet placements, and how to enable the text-to-speech program by himself. But most times, he likes pretending he has trouble with it so you'd hurry over to help him. Because more often than not, you'd stay and talk, describing and discussing and laughing at whatever’s on the screen. He likes it.

 Your voice is the only thing that breaks the usual silence all around him.

 

“Greetings.”

The text to speech function bleats monotonously, but annoyingly loud from the computer’s speakers. Jun tilts his head. The website has barely been loading for a few seconds, and it's already up? The site must have been established somewhere near Ebott, then. With their absolute shitty internet that takes hours to load a ten minute video, he's willing to take a bet.

“Attention, humans. This is an important message.”

 ... _humans?_

 “Please ensure you are safe and out of sight before reading.” What? Jun’s brows furrow as he listens.

 “We are the Datura, a human protection squad. You have received this message. Because we suspect you are currently a target for monsters.” The computer’s voice is nasal, bored, but Jun is sitting upright, fingers clenched tight in his lap. “We did not wish to alarm you, but the human sent to guard you has not returned.”

 A human guard? Jun feels the corner of his eye twitch as he remembers San’s dark, raspy voice.

 

_“humans are pretty territorial, even over a fucking building.”_

_“guess i get the memo, that monsters are not welcome here.”_

 

His fingernails dig hard into his thighs, face twisted into a strange expression.

“Fortunately, another one of our members was quick enough to identify the monster, and deliver this automated message to you. We understand you have a child in your charge, therefore it is our devoted duty as fellow humans to warn you of the danger you’re in.” That quickly?! Who the hell were these people? Were they your neighbours, spies across the next building? Were they listening, ears pressed up to the walls, watching you as you left the house, discussing the forsaken humans left in this infested city? Jun feels his blood run cold.

“Monster identified: Sans. Eyewitnesses described it as a tall, broad skeleton monster frequently dressed in a dark brown or blue coat. Here is the list of assault and murder cases linked or associated with this monster.” _This monster, instead of using his name even though they mentioned it briefly. Another form of distancing,_ Jun notes numbly.

His head lifts as the computer starts reciting names. Ages. Deaths. Missing cases. Mutilations. Jun is frozen in place, trying to block the onslaught of information. But his eager mind soaks it in like a dried out sponge. He’s always been too smart, too eager to learn, to _know._ The measly dozen of books you’ve scavenged aren’t enough for him; he knows them cover to cover. Too much space in his head, too much emptiness, and his brain devours this new information with delight. He knows it’ll only serve to torment him later.

Adults. Children. Elderly. A torrent of names he doesn’t know.

Missing. Missing. Missing. Dead. Missing. Disabled. Deformed. Missing.

Dead.

Dead.

**_Dead._ **

He claps his hands over his ears, trying to block it out. Why are there so many? How can there be so many?! The computer must be malfunctioning! Or...maybe this is all false information that the ' _Datura_ ’ is feeding them, lies to encourage them to turn on monsters. That must be it. He takes a deep breath, hands slowly falling back into his lap.

 “Leey Jhun Yeep.”

His body turns into stone. The computer’s voice has somewhat butchered his name, but he knows. He knows it’s his name.

Why is his _name_ there?

“Stop, I don’t want to know,” he mumbles to no one. His fingers tremble over the keyboard. _What a lie, what a lie, what a sick little liar,_ his mind crows. _You want to know so bad, it’ll kill you if you don’t._

Usually graceful fingers stumble on the keyboard, and the computer bleats at the interruption, rewinding accidentally to repeat his name, like it’s taunting him.

“Leey Jhun Yeep. Age, seven.”

That’s the age he was found by you, isn’t it? _Five years ago._

His heart stills in his chest.

 

“Dead.”

 

__________________________________________________________________

 

“ _No way_. That's, that’s _too_ much!” you exclaim.

Grillby gives a critical glance inside your bag of groceries, weighing the Japanese pumpkin and the small sack of potatoes in his hands, like he’s deciding.

After a beat, he drops both of them inside your bag. You almost crumple at the sudden, additional weight.

“I can’t take _both!_ ” He waves you off with a flick of his wrist. “Boss!” He’s escaped to his, uh, fire escape, but you can hear his amused crackling all the way from the counter. You know he won’t take it back, and the things you leave here always mysteriously appear at your doorstep again.

“y’know, i have a soft spot for pumpkins too.”

You jolt at the sudden comment, and you turn your head over your shoulder to glare at him. Sure enough, Sans is in his usual seat by the counter, lazy grin in place. Why can’t you just get used to him appearing everywhere by now? That teasing baritone shakes you something fierce.

“And I care, why?” You stuff your loot carefully inside your coat, zipping it up to your neck. Sans looks on curiously.

“just sayin’. i’m not always all about the ketchup, you know.”

You give him a scornful look, and he has the audacity to look at least a little abashed. “yea, i know i guzzle enough to drink grillby outta house and home. but pumpkin’s in my number two spot.”

 _Okay…?_ You study him, eyes narrowed, and he looks a little nervous, like he knows he’s being caught out for something.

“If you’re trying to invite yourself to dinner, it’s not working.”

“c’mon, doll.” The low rasp of his voice as he rolls the name makes your stomach flip (in, like, a bad way! Very bad way!!) and your cheeks redden. “throw me a bone here. i know i barged in all uninvited and scared you two kids like a real bonehead, but i know i’m in the wrong. for now at least let me make it up to ya.”

“How?” You purse your lips at him, and his eyes flicker down to them briefly.

“well. i can make a mean pumpkin pie. got a recipe from a friend of mine’s.”

Pie? Your mouth waters a little at the thought. You haven’t had pie in ages, since before the war.

“how’s that work as an apology? you’re drooling, so i’m guessing that’s a yes?”

Okay, maybe not a little. You mouth snaps shut, and you scrub at it furiously with your sleeve. You sneak a glance over at him, and he’s trying to keep a straight face, fiddling casually with his coat buttons. Even though his skull is...sweating?

 Maybe he really is sorry. You stay silent just to taunt him for a moment longer, for all the times he’d laughed at you.

“Well.” You tap your bottom lip thoughtfully, and he thinks you can’t see that his eyes are following the movement, mesmerised. “It better be some _damn_ good pie, ketchup face.”

“ya got it.” He’s pretending he doesn’t really care, but relief is obvious in the way his broad shoulders relax and his hands stop fiddling. “i’m no cook, but at least i’m not a _pie_ of shit.”

“That was horrible.”

“i guess you could say i’m a...pie-neer at pumpkin pies.”

“Disgusting.”

“you’re wrong. you will be pie-eased at my pie.”

“Stop it. Don’t look at me.”

“but babe, i only have _pies_ for you.”

“Do you want to be uninvited?”

“sorry.”

  
  
You expect the walk back home to be awkward and tense with the monster who had been on uneasy terms with you at first. But he’s laid back, all charm now that he’s trying to patch things up, and the conversation flows smooth and easy. You’ve almost forgotten what you were so afraid of. You even went to the monster mart, empty at this hour, to get extra food so that Sans can stay for dinner. Though he’s not a very good shopper, you muse. Everything and anything you had shown interest in, he’d popped it into the basket. When you reprimanded him about the budget, he just shrugged.

“don’t worry about it, dollface.”

Now you had five packets of Sea Tea that you weren’t really sure what to do with.

Well, Sans did pay for it. He can bring it back if it really tastes like...the sea.

The apartment’s lock turns smoothly now that Sans fixed it, and swings open easy.

You still, blinking in confusion.

The place is dark. Pitch black. Sans has stopped behind you, busy balancing groceries in both arms.

Your chest flutters a little anxiously from the unexpected darkness, and you fumble for the light switch near the door. Usually Jun is already up and waiting for you, pouring over his Braille books somewhere. He knows to turn on the lights for you. The apartment is never dark.

You find the light switch, and the apartment buzzes as the room flickers twice, and fills with light.

 

“Jun?”

You find the kid sitting in front of the laptop, fluffy white head bowed, his chest heaving in deep, slow breaths. Had he fallen asleep while watching a video again? It’s odd, he usually doesn’t sleep much in the evenings. He never misses an evening to spend with you.

You sigh, hands on your hips as you survey the mess he’s made. Books thrown haphazardly on the floor, your old laptop on its side and teetering dangerously on the edge of the table. Like it's been shoved, hard. What looked like the remains of white paper, no, it's too hard to be flimsy paper...some sort of card? Torn to tiny white bits, scattered all over the floor.

Your face falls, heart squeezing painfully. Was he...worked up again while he was alone? He used to have these moments sometimes, when he was a few years younger, tearing up books and destroying the wallpaper, tiny hands scratching and pulling and ripping until his little fingers were covered in paper cuts and welts. You think it was probably before he was old enough to withstand being alone for long hours, and this helped him cope with the dreary periods of dead silence and lack of sunlight.

You wince at the memory, and gently pick his wrist up.

No bruises. No lacerations. No blood.

You breathe a sigh of relief, and Jun blearily blinks his eyes open.

His exhausted, confused whisper of your name makes you melt, and you envelop him in a warm hug.

“ _Oh,_ Jun-Jun! I’m sorry I came back so late. I went to get more groceries!” A slow, understanding mumble, and a thin arm hooks around the back of your neck. You indulge him in a gentle hug, careful not to crush him. You can feel his heartbeat, two quick rhythmic pumps against yours. It gradually slows as he buries his face into your neck.

 

“am i interruptin’?”

Jun jerks in your arms, fingers digging into your skin so hard it stings. Shit. You've almost forgotten about Sans in your worry.

“Jun, ow! Relax, it's just Sans. He's not going to hurt us.” That doesn't seem to work at all. In fact, it only forces him to cling tighter. His brows are tightly furrowed, his fingers twitching.

_What the hell has gotten him so agitated?_

He's not letting go, so you lift him up entirely in your arms. It almost feels like he's a little kid again, not almost a preteen. Thank god he's still small and light enough for you to hold.

“Ease up, Jun,” you soothe, bouncing him gently on your hip. “Sans isn't gonna hurt us. If he wanted to, he would have already.” Both parties flinch at your words. What? You weren't completely stupid to let someone dangerous into your home.

“uh. i really know how to pick the times, huh?” Sans gives a nervous little chuckle, and you grimace. “maybe i should come back another time.” You feel a little bad at his lost, unwelcome expression, but he's right. Jun is your family. He has first priority.

“No.” The voice is quiet but firm, murmured from your shoulder. “It's okay, stay.”

You give Jun a concerned frown. “You don't need to push yourself, just let me-”

_“I said, stay.”_

Sans hesitates, and so do you. What was Jun up to? Was he feeling embarrassed about someone seeing him in this state? He shouldn't have to worry putting up a strong front in his own home.

“alright, kid.” Glazed white eyes dart to stare at the direction Sans’ voice came from. “i’ll stay.”

“Good.” His voice sounds like it's struggling to stay even. You exchange a worried glance with Sans. “Put me down, please.”

You squeeze him tighter, shaking your head. “Nah, it's been awhile since I held you like this! I'm gonna savour the moment.” He mumbles a little disagreeably, but snuggles into you anyway. You give a triumphant huff.

“welp. lemme get a start on the pie. ya just, uh, relax.”

“Thanks, Sans.”

You leave him to his devices, bringing your precious cargo over to the couch. Jun is silent, no matter how much you prod him for answers, and he clings to you like a little koala. You sigh, giving it up. Maybe it really was another random outburst.

The two of you almost fall asleep on the couch, your hands stroking his soft little head, until the smell of something sweet and savoury gently nudged you awake.

Jun is a dead weight on your chest, and you struggle to sit up from the couch. A shadow falls over you, and the weight is lifted.

“Mmm?” you mumble sleepily, looking up. Jun is cradled carefully in Sans’ arms, looking much cosier and comfortable against his broad chest. His nose wrinkles as he's moved, but he snuffles into Sans’ sweater, deems it soft enough, and falls right back asleep. You don’t blame him. His episodes thoroughly exhaust him.

“pie’s ready.” Sans’ voice is hushed, but that somehow renders  it lower and huskier at the edges. It makes your body burn pleasantly.

“Uh huh,” you murmur, not really understanding anything.

“alright, sleepyhead. lemme just put this one to bed.”

You stumble up from the couch, eyes directed to something steaming on the kitchen counter.

It's... _huge._ The pie is at least thirty centimeters across. What’s Sans cooking for, an army?

But it smells wonderful, and you find yourself drawn closer. It almost seems to have a golden glow emanating from it, like something straight out of a storybook. Your stomach growls, reminding you that you’re starving.

Well, it’s okay to start a little earlier without Sans, isn’t it?

 

The first bedroom door Sans nudges open with his shoulder doesn’t seem to be Jun’s. It’s cramped, just enough for a small closet and a twin sized bed that fills up most of the space. It looks more like an attic than a bedroom. It’s empty and well kept, not because you’re especially neat or anything, but more like what little belongings you had could barely fill the room. The obvious sign that the room was yours were the clothes hanging over the bed frame, from your afternoon’s rush to Grillby’s. His skull heats as he spots a plain bra hanging on top of your clothes, and quickly averts his gaze. _Whoops._ Next room it is.

Jun’s room is a whirlpool of worn books and papers. His room is twice the size of yours, with a cozy thick mattress and a fluffy, faded duvet. Sans feels a little pang, knowing you must have given up the better mattress and the thicker duvet for him. Jun clearly means the world to you, the one anchor in a confusing, menacing world.

He clears the debris off the mattress, and eases Jun on it. His movements are easy, practiced; he’s done this with Papyrus more than a hundred times. He almost feels a little nostalgic. It’s a pity Papyrus will never let Sans coddle him as often as he likes.

“Mh.” Jun makes a tiny, sleepy, displeased sound at the jostling, and Sans finds himself warming to the soft noise, bending over to tuck his thin limbs into the duvet.  

Jun’s hand shoots up, and latches onto his first rib with a death grip. It near ‘bout gives Sans a heart attack. He tries to pull back, but the kid’s hold is terrifyingly strong. Strangely strong. He’s not about to rip away at full force and break the kid’s fingers.

Jeez, how did he not hurt you when he clung to you like that?

Jun’s blank eyes open slowly, deliberately, and there is Sans’ answer.

_He doesn’t._

 

He drags Sans closer to him, ignoring his uncomfortable, muffled sounds. He’s a smart kid, and Sans isn’t an idiot. Any attempt at hurting Jun will only result in absolute chaos. There isn’t really any easy way out of this.

“What are you up to, _Sans?_ ” His voice is breathy and whispery, without a tinge of the warmth he has when he’s around you. It reminds Sans of something, _someone_ , long ago, and his jaw clenches. “We have nothing for you.”

“oh yeah?” Sans grunts, and huffs a dry laugh. “not really bein’ convincing here, kid.”

“You promised you’d leave us alone if we didn’t hurt anyone. You didn’t leave.”

“i found a reason to stay. a wonderful reason. i guess you can say it’s pretty... _magical._ ” A low curse escapes him as Jun’s grip tightens. He feels, and hears his bones creak a little under the pressure.

“like that, for example.” He’s a little pressure away from wheezing. A pinky’s grip away from coughing. But he grins like he doesn’t feel anything. “ i didn’t notice it at first, but you’re pretty good at doing what you do, aren’t you?” Jun’s mouth has narrowed into a thin, displeased line, and barely contained rage trembles at his fingertips. Sans can feel it against his bones.

“So are you,” Jun replies, turning his head to brush his lips against Sans’ cheek. “The blood on your hands sure warm those old bones, don’t they?”

The pinpricks of lights darken in his eye sockets, but he doesn’t make an attempt to move. As if he could see Sans’ expression, a self-satisfied smile blooms on Jun’s lips. “If you’re done playing house with us humans, you can leave, monster. You’re not welcome here.”

 **“yeah?”** He can’t stop the undertone of a growl in his voice. Those words sting, they always will, no matter how many times he’s heard it. “your little guardian seems pretty happy to have me over playing _house._ so whata ‘bout it, _kid?_ ”

His smugness is cut off with a weak, choked off gasp as Jun twists his wrist, the friction burning his bones like scorched sandpaper.

“Then let’s play a different game.”

Sans’ grin fades into a confused grimace, sweat beading his forehead at the soft, vicious whisper.

 

“Let’s play **murder.** ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sans vs jun?!  
> FIGHT...START???  
> place your bets, beauties and gentlebeauties! 
> 
> ok, i lied. there wasn't much bloodshed yet. just drama. i'm saving the blood for later. i don't know how much later. /sprays fake blood everywhere/ so sorry for being so jun-centric here, and less reader time. i will make up for that in the next chapter!! 
> 
> um, i made a tumblr! but i don't know what to do with it yet. i was thinking of doing mini bonus daily life drabbles or something... any suggestions? (・∀・｀；)  
> also, i'd also love to hear what you guys would like to see in the story. mayhaps i might be inspired to add it in ohohoho（☆∀☆）
> 
> but no pressure. (´∀`)
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	6. the color of comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg 100 kudos and 1000 hits?!? Σ（・□・　）*quiet screams*
> 
> thank you all for your support!! ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Sans lets out a low, quiet snicker, broad shoulders shaking. Jun remains impassive, milky white eyes staring at nothing and everything all at once. The air between them is tense, both fragile and solid like glass, waiting to shatter, waiting to drop. 

“murder, huh?” His laughter dies off, and he grins. “that’s real funny, kid. you gonna end me right here?”

“No,” Jun sighs, like Sans is being stupid on purpose. “That is a very boring game.”

Sans can’t help it, he tenses up again at the thought of it being a game, just a game to them, a game to _a kid_ . Their lives and the lives of others at the mercy of a human (please, not _again_ ). Good human, bad  human, neutral human, it was all just the flip of a coin. That’s all they were worth.

 

Surprisingly, Jun released his iron grip on Sans. He winces, bringing a protective hand up to his ribs.

“then ya completely lost me, kid. that’s the only way i know how to play that game.”

“I know.” Sans pauses, crouched over Jun awkwardly, trying to read his next move. Jun stretches out lazily, like a cat, taking his own sweet time. Long, delicate arms stretch out, winding around Sans’ shoulders and pulling him close into a sleepy hug. It looked innocent, almost familiar, but it sends chills up Sans’ spine, bony hands bracing themselves on the soft mattress.

“Just let me tell you,” he murmurs, softly against Sans’ temple.

He opens his mouth, and the names flow out of him like water. Ages. Deaths. Missing persons. Everything the computer has told him, everything that his mind put to memory, he pours it out, regurgitates it all over Sans. But he keeps his own name apart, a dirty secret slipped inside his pocket, a trump card. Jun’s voice is smooth and even, almost pleasant, like a child reciting the multiples. But the numbers are the weight of Sans’ sins, and Jun’s slender arms around him feel like iron chains, weighing him down, pulling him under the surface.

 

He can’t breathe.

**“shut up.”** His voice is ragged, hoarse. “i don’t know where you got all that from, but you don’t know everything. you don’t know me.” Deep breath in, deep breath out.

**“i did what i had to.”**

But Jun only smiles wryly.

“Even the _children?_ ” His fingers gently roamed over San’s face, tracing his features. Sans shuts his eyes tight, the soft, ticklish touch feeling like knives dragging over his bones. “You couldn’t stand up to a child?”

“you don’t understand.” He turns his face away from the wandering fingers. “you never saw what they were like. you didn’t see what they did. you didn’t see what happened.”  

Jun looks troubled for a moment, but it clears off his face quickly.  

“I understand.”

“ya just...what?” Sans blinks. “You do?”

“Of course.” His fingers brush against Sans’ chest, circling the bruised bone through his sweater. “I understand exactly what kind of **monster** you are.”

 

Sans recoils too late; something cold, wet and slimy shoots through him, through his soft, white soul. The fact that Jun manages to land one on him stuns him. The fact that the kid even knows where his soul is astounds him. Was it on purpose, or a coincidence? _How?_ _What did he just do to him?_

He stares at the narrow black rod of magic, clutched securely in Jun’s small hands, piercing straight through his chest. It must be the shock, because it should hurt much more than this, but all he feels is cold.

It flickers, like a faulty light bulb, and disappears.

He expects himself to shatter, to fall apart, to turn into dust.

 

But nothing happens.

 

Jun’s magic is still there, wrapping around his soul; it feels like it’s drowning in tar, in quicksand, swallowed greedily into nothingness. He claws at his sweater, staggering away, almost slipping on a book. The magic that came from Jun is familiar and unfamiliar all at once, like something important he forgot, something on the tip of his tongue.

Then, it fades away. Like it was never there. Sans is wide eyed, sweating, panting against the wall.

“the **fuck** , kid?” His bones feel like they’ve been turned to jelly. “what did’ja do to me, ya little mage?”

“Mage?” Jun looks almost confused, but he shrugs it off. “I’m keeping my _eyes_ on you.” He taps under his blind, unseeing eyes, and gives Sans a sharp little grin. Sans would have been impressed if he wasn’t so thoroughly shaken. Jun’s grin drops, and suddenly his eye bags look a little more prominent in the dim light, cheeks a little more sunken in.

“Get out. I’m tired.” Like a puppet with its strings cut, he falls back onto the bed, bringing his duvet with him.

Soft snoring fills the room. Using that kind of magic (a tracker? a timed poison? a failsafe?) must have exhausted every last reserve of energy he had. From what he knew, humans generally didn’t use magic anymore, at least, not to this extent. Most of them had no idea magic existed outside of their fairytales.

 

Of all the children you could have taken in, it had to be a little witch boy. But after all those years living with the kid, you would never believe the monster you just met over him. 

Sans stares at Jun, at a complete loss. He feels like how he did the first time he saw a human dust his brother in one timeline. Blind, blank panic, like fire ants crawling inside his bones. And there was nothing he could do at all. Nothing he could do to change anything. He was always the one too involved, the one who knew too much, and the only one who seemed to have to suffer through the consequences alone, afraid to burden anyone else with his knowledge. He never knows what the right thing to do is.

So he does what he always does. Put his empty grin on, turn, and leave.

 

The kitchen light is on, a bright spot in the dark of the apartment, a warm place from the coldness of Jun’s room. You’re sitting at the counter, drowsy with a full belly. A huge chunk is missing from the pie.

The sated, pleased look on your face, covered in pie crumbs and pumpkin bits, is a sight for sore eyes. The heaviness in his chest lightens, and his soul almost seems to light up after it’s assault, drawn towards you like a moth to a bright flame. He follows it willingly, and takes a seat right next to you.

 

“heya. you leave any for me?”

“Psh,” you scoff, nudging him with your shoulder. “There’s enough to feed all of us twice over, and we’ll still be able to ask for seconds.” Sans is surprised at your casual touch. Maybe you were too tired to care. After a beat of consideration, he nudges you back gently, careful not to knock you off your chair with his strength.

“You not having any?” Yawning, you stretch your arms over your head. “I’m going to clean up in a bit.”

“i’m not really hungry.” That wakes you up a little bit, and you squint at his face critically. He looks a little apprehensive as he directs his gaze down to you. “what?”

“You asked to come to dinner, and you’re not eating?” You squirm in your chair so you can sit upright. “Is...is something wrong? Is it about Jun?”

 

Bingo. The face he makes is awful, and you feel a little defensive.

“Jun is a good kid...he can’t help his episodes. It’s because he’s left alone all the time, so, sometimes he tends to lose his cool. I would, too, y’know? He’s just a child, really, despite how he acts.” The look on Sans’ face is dark, indescribable. Your heart twists with an uncomfortable feeling, and you feel almost...disappointed? “Look, if you can’t handle it, feel free to go. I’m not keeping you here.”

“it’s not that, doll.” Sans tilts his head back, and the lights in his eyes are far away. “i just feel like i intruded, that’s all. i wanted to make things up to you two, but i ended up making things worse.” Oh. You feel a little guilty for berating Sans, rubbing your shoulder self consciously. “and i, uh, didn’t get a chance to apologise.”

 

You have the strange feeling he’s talking about something more, but you don’t push it.

“It’s alright, Sans. A bad start doesn’t always mean a bad ending, right?” You smile, trying to diffuse the tension. You push yourself up from the chair, starting to gather the dishes. You lean over to collect the plate meant for Sans, and you find him staring at you with a lost, distant expression.

“do you...do you really think so?” He clears his throat a little, and stares down at his lap. “i mean...some bad things kinda plague you for the rest of your life, y’know? it...it changes people, makes them bad too. like rot.”

You soften at the sight of the big bad monster hunched over your small counter, looking like he’s expecting you to condemn him to hell. Is he talking about himself? You set the dishes in the sink and wash your hands. They can wait till morning.

 

“Sans.” He jumps as you set both hands firmly on his shoulders, and he peers up at you hesitantly. You tap the top of his skull playfully. “You’re not a bad person.”

His cheekbones blaze blue, and the lights in his eyes seem to grow bigger. “i...i din’ say nuthin’ bout me. and you’re just saying that cus i made ya a good pie.” You snort. He glares down at the pie with a vengeance, like it was the cause of all his distress.

“Well, I don’t believe _anyone_ is a bad person.” You squeeze his shoulders, trying to relax him. “Everyone just...goes through hard times. And sometimes they make bad mistakes. Sometimes, they don’t even think they’re making mistakes, because the lessons they learnt in their lives made them think their mistakes are right!” You laugh. “And how can something you’re sure of in your whole life be wrong?”

It’s practiced speech, one that you constantly repeat to yourself at night. After all, your parents admitted they had gone through many terrible things. They hurt you because they’re hurt too, on the inside. They don’t know how to be kind. Not because they don’t love you. They just...make mistakes. They’ll realise they’re wrong.

Soon.

 

“...and what if they realise it’s wrong?” His voice has gone so soft, you almost missed it. You jerk back into reality.

“T-Then that’s great!” you exclaim, so loud it startles Sans. You massage his shoulders in apology. “That’s easy. You just change, from there.”

“i...i don’t know _how._ ”

His fingers have somehow crept over to yours, lying warmly, gently, on top of yours. You fight back the blush that sears from the hand he’s touched all the way to your ears. What’s up with you, having these weird feelings when he’s in a sensitive mood?

“I-I’m sure you know someone that knows,” you squeak. “Y-You just have to, uh, reach out, y’know?”

“yea.” If Sans notices your stammer, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his gaze drags over your sparse apartment, as if he’s looking for inspiration.

His eyes shift back to the pie, and they light up in understanding.

“i think i do.” He turns to look at you, grip tightening slightly on your hand. There’s a gentle, genuine tinge to his grin, and it makes your blush burn hotter. “thanks, doll.”

“Yeap!” You give him a thumbs up with the other hand, and he snorts as your voice cracks again. But it’s not mocking, just amused.

 

“i think i should get going. i’ve made a nuisance of myself enough.” He starts to unfold from the chair, rising to his feet.

“Oh.” You can’t help the disappointed tone in your voice, and he gives you a glance, grin lifting a little knowingly as he pulls on his coat. “Um, do you want to stay over?”

 

_Woah, what?_

“uh, what?” The cheekiness in his grin is lost, and he looks confused, nervous, like you’re going to call out _‘just kidding!’_ anytime. “It’s fine, i-”

“It’s just that, that, it’s...uh, it’s pretty late!” You stare at the corner of the ceiling behind his head. “You can have the couch! And, um, go home in the morning. It’s just a night.” You draw a circle in the tile with your toe anxiously. Sans looks at you like you’re an impossible puzzle. It’s making you more anxious by the second.

“well, how can i refuse such a generous offer?” His voice has taken on the usual velvety purr, and you kind of regret your decision. Of course he’s gonna make fun of you. You pout as he pats your head, and walks past you towards the couch.

You hear a heavy _pouf!_ as he falls onto it, and you head into your room to get him a covering. Well, you really only had the one large blanket, but Sans can have it for tonight. He’s the guest, after all. You can’t help but feel a little excited. A guest! After all the years of living here! No one had ever bothered asking after you or Jun.

You offer Sans your blanket, and he furrows his brow bone.

 

“doll, isn’t that your only cover?”

“How did you know?”

“uh, i accidentally walked into your room.”

“Oh my god.”

“i was carryin’ the kid to bed!”

Fine. You fumble with the blanket self-consciously, before tossing it at him anyway.

“It’s the only one big enough for you!” Now it’s his turn to look sheepish.

“what about you?”

 

“Mmh…” You look around, and spot the overcoat he’s wearing. “How about an exchange?” You curl your fingers at his coat, and he looks down.

“sure…?” He exchanges his coat for your blanket, and you pull it on. It hangs off you, like a little girl wearing her father’s coat, but you wrap it tight around yourself. It’s warm, and it has a hint of something smoky and earthy. There’s a faint scent of sweet ketchup near his sleeve.

Pleased, you plop down onto the couch next to him.

“isn’t this the part where we, uh, go off to sleep? separately?” He seems transfixed upon seeing you in his coat. He must be comparing how tiny humans are to him.

“Oh. I was thinking, we could still talk a bit, if you’re not tired?” You scratch behind your head sheepishly. “Usually Jun stays up with me, but he’s...you know…”

“sure.” His reply is too quick, too easy, and he relaxes into the couch, arm braced on the back of it. “what d’you wanna talk about?”

The conversation ebbs and flows easily, like meeting up with an old friend. You tell him stories about the world above, and he shares with you about life under the mountain. He asks you about the stars, and you ask him about the underground.

 

But he looks the happiest, the most alive, when he’s talking about his brother, Papyrus. And you know so because you have the same look when you chatter on about Jun to Grillby. You caught sight of yourself in the mirrored bar once, and you have the same bright-eyed, glowing look.

It’s an awfully endearing look on him.

Somehow during the conversations, the left side of your body had completely melted into his right. His arm curves loosely around you, not touching but hovering around the contours of your form. You chatter up to him, and he dips his head a little to listen. It’s comfortable, soothing, and you’ve never warmed up to another person so fast. It should scare you, especially a monster almost three times your size, but you feel...at home.

The two of you fall asleep on the couch without even realising.  

 

The first thing that wakes Sans is the weak sunlight, inching across the worn floorboards. He’s unused to sunlight, and therefore he’s up if there’s even an inch of it shining somewhere. His feet are propped up on the coffee table in front of him, and he’s never felt so...peaceful. His limbs are loose and relaxed, his soul pulsing slow and lazy.

There’s something warm and soft on his chest, in his lap, and he looks down to see that you’ve somehow crawled onto him during the night. You’re snoring on his chest, hands clutching at his sweater. His coat almost swallows you entirely, and you look so safe and cosy in his lap, wearing his clothes, that a pleased rumble starts in his chest. He stops it quickly before you wake, pressing his palm to his face to stop the flush creeping over his face. He really needed to stop his habit before he bit his tongue out.

You snuffle in your sleep, and he freezes, afraid that he’s really woken you after all, but you’re just adjusting yourself, laying your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his chest. He bites back a laugh, seeing you clinging onto him like a little spider monkey.

 

Tenderly, he winds a lock of your hair around his finger in fascination, bringing it to his lips. He doesn’t really have them, of course, but the magic that surrounds him create something tender and gentle enough to kiss your hair with. What was it about you that made him want to be so uncharacteristically careful, so oddly gentle around humans? You’re not a completely vulnerable human, certainly not when you ran around a deadbeat city like this, working in an all-monster establishment. That took guts.

_But you’re so soft_ , he marvels, every part of you is soft and warm and vulnerable. How did you even survive this city all on your own?

 

He aches to press a kiss to your lips, your neck, or any part of you really. Just to feel the addictively soft, silky warmth beneath him. He casts a nervous glance around, tugging at his collar. If...if it’s just a kiss to the top of your head, that would be okay, right? That’s not...that doesn’t mean anything to humans. Just a quick, brief one, and no one will even know. Just one for himself. He has to know.

He knows, _he had a sickening feeling since last night,_ that he will never be able crawl back out of this hole he’d dug for himself. Why would a human even think of being intimate with a monster like him? If even the terrible humans had it out for them, what luck did he have with someone like you?

Sure, he flirted and he teased and your face glowed such a lovely color when you were flustered. It melted him so disgustingly fast that he was almost ashamed of himself. And for what? One day he was going to have to listen to you gush about someone else. One day he was going to watch you blush for someone else, watch you walk away with someone else, watch you fall asleep on someone else.

Probably someone...human.

 

So, one tiny, tiny kiss to the top of your head...just a momento for him to steal. A brief moment of pretending, of bliss. Without you knowing. Was that selfish?

“i’m not being selfish,” he whispers, wavering slightly. “i’m just curious. that’s all.”

Swallowing, he dips his head, carefully nuzzling your hair. Your scent is mingled with his, musky and sweet, and he has to shut his eyes against it.

But he doesn’t see you move, doesn’t see you lifting your head to rub at your eyes, and his lips miss your head completely. He goes too far south, and…

 

And his lips are pressed up against yours.

It’s a clumsy kiss, landing halfway off your lips, but he can feel them acutely with every fiber of his being. They’re a little chapped from the cold, slightly parted from sleep, but they’re soft. Soft and pliant and warm and _better than he could ever fucking imagine oh my god-_

Your sleepy eyes widen, and you make a startled, muffled squeak.

 

**Shit.**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kISS KISS FALL IN LOVE


	7. the color of chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo long chapter. get your popcorn ready.  
> am i moving too fast? am i making sense? damn this sleepy brain of mine.

Time froze over.

You stare up at Sans, and the light in his eyes reflect your shock. He’s close enough to see himself in the reflection of your irises, to count each individual eyelash. Sans’ kiss burns you from the inside out and freezes you in place at the same time, prickling hot and cold over your skin.

You exhale unconsciously, and your hot breath against his mouth seem to jerk him back into reality.

The moment breaks with his movement, and both of you flinch backwards at the same time.

 

But you forget there’s nothing behind you, nothing to support you, and you find yourself slipping off his lap, coat almost sliding off your shoulders, going straight for the floor. You yelp, scrabbling at thin air.

He catches you by your arm, yanks you forward instinctively, safe against his chest. The soft wool of his sweater scratches softly against your cheek, and his hand presses against the small of your back, holding you to him.

W-What is happening? The tendrils of sleep still cling to your mind, bewildered and lost. It’s too much to comprehend after you just woke up, and you-

_You’re sitting on his lap._

 

Making an undignified squeak, you try to scramble off his lap onto the space next to him, and he lets you, his hand falling away. It leaves a warm spot on your back, and feels strangely empty.

This is mortifying. More than mortifying. Is there a word worse than mortifying? That would be what you were. You knew your clingy, huggy habit in bed would catch up with you one day and bite you in the ass. That was the reason you didn’t let Jun sleep with you, god knows you slept like a log and you could’ve squeezed the poor boy to death.

So why did you let yourself fall asleep next to Sans?!

He clears his throat uncomfortably, and you duck your head, wanting to bury your face in your hands. Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

Well, the least you could do was apologise, right?

 

“I’m so sor-” **“i’m sorry-”**

You cut yourself off just as he does, and two burning faces stare at each other stupidly.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you!”  
**“i’m sorry i kissed ya.”**

Words tumble out of the two of you at the same time, and the silence afterwards was stale. You don’t know what’s more painful; the fact that you’ve maybe (definitely) ruined a perfectly fine, budding friendship, or that he’s apologising for kissing you. It was probably a shock to him. Monsters didn’t like humans that way, right? You are just an odd, lumpy little human, after all. He must have thought it was so weird, and tried to move you off his lap when you lifted your head.

What if he doesn’t want to be friends? What if he finally realises you’re too different, too weird for him up close, and he starts to avoid you? What if everytime he looks at you, it reminds him of the humans that condemned his entire species?

_Why do you always end up scaring people off?_

To your horror, you feel tears burning in the corner of your eyes, and a sniffle working its way out of your traitorous mouth before you can help it. There’s a hurried shifting next to you, and you bite your bottom lip hard at the sound, hiding your face in Sans’ big coat sleeves. Let him run if he wants, you don’t blame him. Your parents were right about you, after all.

 

**_“doll?”_ **

Sans’ voice sounds timid, lost, and it coaxes you to peek out from behind the sleeves. He’s on his knees in front of the couch, brow bones furrowed so fiercely together he looks almost intimidating, if not for the worried quirk of his mouth.

It’s wrong. He shouldn’t frown like that. Sans never frowns. You reach out with a finger and press on the furrow in his brow bone, trying to ease it from his face.

But he only looks crushed at the sight of your wet cheeks and watery eyes, and the furrow doesn’t give. The back of his knuckles brushes your teary face gently, a feather’s touch, barely even there.

“i’m so _sorry,_ ” he whispers, and his voice cracks a little at the end. “it’s all my fault. didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart. i didn’t meant to hurt ya. i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” His fervent apologies and uncharacteristically gentle manner only makes the tears well up quicker.

“No, _I’m_ sorry.” You want to scrub the stupid tears away, but you don’t want to dirty Sans’ sleeves. “I know you didn’t mean to...it just… It must be...so weird. T-To kiss a human, like, um...” Sans looks confused now, but he waits patiently for you to go on. “I must look so strange to you. That kiss must have, like, traumatised you or something.” You give a self deprecating little laugh.  

He stares at you for a long moment, with the kind of look he’s fixed on you all too often: like he’s trying to pick you apart, decipher what you mean.

Then his entire body relaxes, leaning heavily into the couch, head tilted back as he exhales heavily.

“oh my god.” He runs his bony fingers down his face slowly, giving a disbelieving little chuckle. “do you even hear yourself say these things?” He isn’t smiling, and it makes you uneasy somehow. Was it...presumptuous of you, or ignorant to assume that monsters couldn’t have feelings for humans?

 

“i’m sorry i kissed you without your permission.”

_“I slept on you all night-!”_

“but it doesn’t mean i feel sorry about kissing you.”

“ _And I..._ w-whaaa?”

His cheekbones are tinged with that familiar blue again, but he looks determined, meeting your gaze evenly. You’re the one who has to duck your eyes, face burning.

“i, uh, i mean, i don’t regret it. shoulda asked first though, instead of getting all up in your space myself.”

_“B-But...why?”_

“because i want to.”

 

You want to bury your face again at the painfully straightforward answer. Didn’t he have any tact?

“You don’t even know me that well-”

“but i want to.” His voice is quiet, low and earnest. “i understand if ya feel uncomfortable, doll. i did just come onto you a little too strong.”

“I mean, why _me?”_ You run your fingers frustratedly through your messy bedhead. _“I’m human.”_

 

Another silence falls over the room, but Sans looks thoughtful instead of troubled.

“you’re you. i mean, i just, i’m just curious about _you._ unless,” he shifts, looking sideways. “unless ya ain’t interested.”

“I am.” Woah there girl, that was too quick! Where was your filter?! You scratch the back of your head, looking a little embarrassed. “I mean, uh. I wouldn’t mind trying it out. But you do know what this means to humans, right?”

“the same thing it means to monsters?” He lifts a brow bone, and you feel yourself withering away on the inside at your ignorance.

“Sorry.” You worry at your bottom lip nervously. “S-So, does this mean...you, uh, are...interested in me _that_ way?”

“i don’t know yet, but i don’t wanna beat around the fact that i might have a thing for ya,” Sans says truthfully, staring up at you so sincerely that you can’t meet his gaze, or you’ll burst into flames. “do you?”

 

“I-I...I don’t know, either,” you admit. “But, it’s not unpleasant to think about, I mean.” Wow, way to be tactful. You want to sink into the couch. Where was your eloquence when you needed it?

Oh, right. You never had much of that.

“not unpleasant. i think i can live with that.” His smug grin is back on his face, and somehow you’re relieved. You’ve missed it without even knowing that you did. “so, can i kiss you again?”

_"Right now?!”_

“hush, you’ll wake the kid.” Oh, right. You give a little abashed smile.. Mulling over it for a moment, you give a sure nod. You weren’t lying, this isn’t an unpleasant situation at all. What’s there to lose, anyway?

 

His grin softens, and he leans forward, only to halt as your hand reaches out bravely to cup his jaw. His eyes drop nervously to it, but you run your thumb over his cheekbones, tracing it softly, bringing him towards you. He follows your touch, entranced, climbing over you onto the couch.

It takes both your hands to cup his face properly, but even so, you’ve never thought your hands would look so small before. He seems to be waiting for you, leaning into your touch with eyes half-lidded, like he’s drunk on just your touch. His hands are braced on the back of the couch next to your head, and their grip tightens as you press a soft, shy kiss to his forehead.

He gives a pleased rumble, and you can feel it vibrating through you, against your fingertips. He closes his eyes and nuzzles against your jaw, smooth, warm bone against soft, warm skin.

“Um, S-Sans?”

**“mmh?”** _God._ That lazy baritone drawl should be illegal. He lifts his head, and you gather enough courage to make the first move, pressing your lips to his. There’s a moment when he doesn’t move at all, and you think you’ve fucked up (after all, you’re just kissing his teeth, damn it!), but he presses back, the pressure careful and tender. It’s like nothing and everything you’ve imagined. Your chest is filled with light, your body floaty and sensitive in an overload of endorphins.

 

An embarrassing, high-pitched whine for more makes it past your lips, and your cheeks flame. But Sans doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even make a joke about it. Instead, his teeth grazes over your bottom lip in response, and you gasp at the unexpected jolt of pleasure.

He parts from you immediately, and you try to follow.

**“did i hurt ya?”** How the fuck does he sound so calm, when your heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of your chest?!

 

You shake your head breathlessly, fingers digging into his sweater. You don’t really trust yourself to speak right now. Somehow your hands have navigated from his jaw to his shoulders all on their own, looped behind his neck securely.

He gives a satisfied smile, dipping his head to yours. You lift your chin expectantly, wanting another kiss, but he avoids your lips, ignoring your disappointed noise as he delves straight for your neck.

You make a confused sound, but it melts into a breathless _‘oh’_ as he kisses the length of your neck, magic sparking on with every touch. You can feel his grin growing wider at your squirming. That bastard is enjoying being a goddamn tease again!

You gather up the mess he’s made of your mind, sharp retort at the ready, but it dies off to a whimper as he digs the blunter edges of his teeth into the your skin. _Holy shit._ How the hell does he know all the right places to touch? You didn’t even know your neck was _this_ sensitive.

He drags this teeth down, scraping against the soft juncture where your neck met your shoulder, and you muffle your moan into his sweater, body arching up to his, legs rubbing together tightly. You can’t help it; you want to get closer, to hold on to him, greedy for the pleasure. He doesn’t seem to mind either, a strong arm circling your waist and pulling you close to his broad chest. Woah, since when were you lying down on the couch?

Was he using magic to make it feel this good? He must be, he must be or you wouldn’t- _ohhhh god_ that’s his tongue, tracing over the bite marks. He purrs against your skin, a low, throaty rumble that seeps straight into your core, and your eyes actually roll back into your head.

 

“doll?” He lowers you to the couch, releasing his grip around your waist, and your arms slide from his shoulders, boneless, to fall over your head. His skull is backlit by the faint morning rays, and the floating dust in the air looks like starlight dancing around him. He shifts, crouched over you, and the sunlight shines past him to touch your cheek, illuminating each fiber of your hair, and lighting up your eyes. He’s watching the rise and fall of your chest in fascination, the way you’re softly heaving for breath, the way your parted lips form little white clouds in the cold air.

Staring at each other, transfixed, it takes a while to return to your senses.

 

“how was that for a trial run? you fallen for me yet?” His tone is light and teasing, but he looks somewhat nervous for your reply, and his cheeks are lightly dusted in blue.

“Um,” you say intelligently, and his eyes soften as he chuckles.

“from ‘not unpleasant’ to ‘um’. guess it’s an improvement.” He winks, and there’s a strange little bleep coming from his pocket. It must be his cell phone. He looks a little reluctant all of a sudden. “sorry, doll. i hate to kiss and run, but i’m late.” He shifts off you, and you feel cold and exposed all of a sudden.

“What time is it?”

“an hour till your shift starts.”

“How do you even know when my shift starts…?”

“magic.”

 

You give him a dry laugh, and sit up on the couch. His coat is kind of rumpled from...just now, and you take it off, handing it to him. He takes it from you, and the warm brush of his fingers against yours sends sparks up your nerves.

Magic. Definitely magic.

“So, uh, I guess I’ll be seeing you around?” Did that come off a little desperate? You weren’t exactly an expert at these things. How did you establish a relationship again? Did you need a dating manual, a courtship ritual? Or was this just a casual thing, something that you just left alone?

“sure, doll.” His gravelly voice yanks you back from your spiraling thoughts, and you look up at him. “you’re still a ‘maybe’, after all.”

You flush as his fingers gently caress your cheek, tilting your chin up. “ _Still?_ C’mon, I’m pretty sure I proved my worth.” You try for a pleading smile, tilting your face into his touch.

 

**“thinkin’ of kissin’ your way outta this, huh?”** You’re going to dissolve right into the floor if his drawl gets any deeper. You stare straight ahead at his chest instead, as he saunters closer, hot breath brushing against your forehead. “i don’t think that was quite enough for me. guess it’s only fair to come back a little more, get a better judgement? ya don’t mind, do ya?” You’re sure your face is hot enough by now to melt his fingers off.

“I guess not,” you squeak. He gives you a satisfied smile, and clicks his teeth against your forehead.

“see ya ‘round, then.” The door swings open behind him, and he steps out smoothly, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. He gives you a mock salute, grinning, and the door shuts and locks, bathed in a blue glow.

 

You wait till the blue fades to sink to the floor, trying to cool your burning face with your hands.

It takes you a long while, sitting on the cold hardwood floor, trying to wipe your silly, happy smile off your face. But it doesn’t go, the warm feeling in your chest burning steadily like flickering embers. God, this was too cheesy. You were swooning worse than a heroine in a bad romance novel. No wonder Sans felt the need to tease you all the time.

The doorbell rings, and your head jerks up in surprise. Did Sans leave something behind? Did he...did he want to say something else? You can’t help but flush again at the thought, opening the door before the rational part of your mind catches up with your fluttery thoughts.

 

Sans doesn’t need to ring the doorbell.

The fear drowns you like ice water, but it’s too late; you’re already staring at a stranger.

A woman.

An impeccably well-dressed woman, auburn hair curled and coiffed, red lipstick and silky black pantsuit gleaming in the gloominess of the corridor. Looking at her is almost surreal, like she just stepped out of a magazine, like someone mistook Ebott for New York, and dropped her here. She’s in sharp focus, and the corridor looks even duller in her presence somehow. As if someone forgot to color it in.

 

“Hello.” Her voice is rich and quiet, almost friendly.

“H-Hi,” you mumble, already starting to close the door. “Sorry, I think you got the wrong address…”

“No, wait! Please!” She steps forward, a desperate look in her pretty, dark eyes. You pause, fingers gripping the edge of the door nervously. “I, um, I mean we, sent you a message yesterday, but you had failed to reply in time, so we were very worried.”

“What? _We?_ ” You narrow your eyes. “Ma’am, I really think you have the wrong address. I didn’t receive any letter. If this is about rent, the agreed due date isn’t for a week…”

“Oh!” Manicured hands fly up daintily to her mouth, and she looks both embarrassed and annoyed. “I should have known that good-for-nothing wouldn’t be able to handle even a simple delivery.” She reaches inside her jacket, and pulls out a pristine white card, holding it out to you with an expectant smile.  

Hesitantly, you pluck it from her fingers, and scan it quickly.

“Um..”

“We’re a very prestigious service, though we just started recently,” she continues excitedly. “We were funded very generously by many major companies, so you can place your trust in us.” Her hands cover yours, startlingly cold.

“Dah-tura…? Like the flower?” You try to pronounce the neat, black print, getting more bewildered by the moment. Its formal black border reminds you of funeral services, but it would be rude to point out.

“Datura,” she confirms, giving you a proud, red-lipsticked smile. “We’re Human Protection Services.” As if you can’t read the large, bold print. No one could miss it.

“Protection against what?” You kind of already know the answer, you think.

“Monsters, of course!” She looks surprised that you’re even asking. “I know it’s causing you much distress, but we can help you with it. Though,” she adds, almost like an afterthought, “the one you’ve got on your tail seems like a tough one. But we have yet to find a monster we can’t handle!”

 

That’s it. You yank the door close, but her hand darts out and grabs the edge of it, her heel blocking the door from shutting completely. **_Fuck_ ** **,** she’s strong.

“Darlin’,” she coos, like you aren’t struggling with the door. “I mean no harm, I really don’t. Just...help me help you? I know you have a little one, oh! There he is!” Her other hand does a funny little wave, opening and closing her fingers like she’s a child.

Your gaze darts behind you, and Jun is standing in the middle of the apartment, blank gaze trained towards the strange new voice.

 

The moment of distraction is all she needs, and the door is wrenched open, away from your fingers. The card flutters from your grip to the floor, and you stumble backwards. Jun is there immediately, pressed up against you, his hand lacing through yours for comfort. She gives you a sympathetic little smile.

“Aw, that’s so cute,” she sighs. “Is he yours, or your brother? You do look so awfully young.” She slips her hands into her pockets, looking casual and relaxed as more men emerge from the shadows of the corridors. You curse yourself for opening the door. One of them has a funny looking gun in his hand. The others have baseball bats slung over their shoulders.

“Don’t look so scared, sweetie. We just need you to answer a few questions for us, okay?”

Your breath hitches as one of the men casually twirls his bat, slapping it against his palm. She takes slow, sure steps towards you, heels clicking on the scuffed wood floor. Another one of them cocks the weird looking gun.  

“You’ll be a good girl, won’t you?”

The scream lodges itself in your throat.

\--------------------------

 

_“SANS!”_

“sup, bro,” Sans answers automatically. A glossy black Oxford shoe taps irritably, and he looks up, grinning lazily. Papyrus is towering over him, arms crossed in his stiff black suit, frowning.

“I’VE BEEN CALLING YOU FOR THE PAST FIFTEEN MINUTES AND TWENTY FOUR SECONDS!” Papyrus looks back to the watch on his wrist. “TWENTY FIVE! TWENTY SIX!”

“sorry, bro.”

“YOUR APOLOGY WOULD ORDINARILY NOT BE ACCEPTED, BUT SINCE I AM SO VERY GREAT, I SUPPOSE I CAN MAKE AN EXCEPTION FOR YOU.” Papyrus reaches out for Sans’ tie, loose from his constant tugging, and tightens it. Sans tries not to gag at the pressure on his throat. How did Papyrus stand it?

“thanks, bro.” He tries to move away from his brother’s prying hands, smoothing over his own suit. Ugh, how he hated these scratchy things. Next time, he was going to commision one from Muffet instead.

“WHAT HAS GOTTEN YOU SO DISTRACTED?” Sans shrugs, feeling a little guilty at how razzled Papyrus sounds. “YOU DIDN’T COME HOME AT ALL LAST NIGHT, SO I WENT TO GRILLBY’S TO FIND YOU, BUT YOU WEREN’T THERE TOO! AND YOU WEREN’T AT THE PRE-PRE MEETING, OR THE PRE-MEETING, AND YOU WERE LATE TO THE ACTUAL MEETING.” Papyrus huffs, hands on his hips. The suit looks good on his long, lanky frame, comfortable and well-fitted. Sans almost envies him. “THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEETING OF THE YEAR, SANS! WE MIGHT FINALLY BE ABLE TO CONVINCE THE HUMANS TO END THIS PETTY WAR AND BE OUR FRIENDS!”

 

Sans wants to snort, but he keeps a straight face so he wouldn’t hurt Papyrus’ feelings. Honestly, these monthly meetings were just hopeless attempts at pretending to be civil, and leaving feeling more drained and more aware of their current situation than usual. Political humans were the slyest, most devious bunch of motherfuckers Sans has ever had the displeasure of meeting. Even with all their formal, elaborate discussions and fancy hors d'oeuvres, they couldn’t dress up their disdain and hostility more obviously.

He wants to fling the pastries at their fleshy, disapproving faces sometimes.

“Sans, I am so glad you could make it.” Asgore’s deep, gentle voice cuts through Papyrus’ fussing. He appears behind them, smiling despite the grave look in his eyes. “Your presence is a great help, always.”

“whateva ya say, your majesty.” He doesn’t mean to be so snippy, but human-monster meetings always make him twitchy and anxious. Asgore gives him a firm pat on the back anyway, and signals for the rest of them to enter the conference hall.

 

The meeting starts as it always does; a long, boring speech that makes Sans fidget. Papyrus sits upright, the tallest head in the room, his eyes glued to the human speaking as if he’s hearing it all for the first time. He admires Papy’s tenacity sometimes.

“I would like to bring an important matter to light.” Something about the way Asgore speaks commands attention, even if his voice is quieter than usual, and everyone turns to him. “It has been brought to my attention that a monster-hate group has been roaming around the streets of Ebott. This, clearly, goes against our prior agreements.”

_that’s definitely not the first time,_ Sans thinks, rolling his eyes. But the humans look intrigued, leaning forward and whispering amongst themselves. Asgore is encouraged by the attention, and continues.

“They have been dusting monsters over a period of time, and we have evidence that our party has always refrained from making the first attack. Therefore, I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that these humans are _deliberately_ hunting monsters. When questioned, one of the humans claimed to be funded by your governments…?”

 

_“Mr. Dreemur, I highly doubt our government has the money to spare for such petty acts-”_

“If not your government, then ‘large, major corporations’ under your government, I believe they mentioned. I would like to seek a peaceful, non-invasive solution-”

_“Mr. Dreemur, what evidence do you have that monsters weren’t the ones attacking? After all, humans are the more vulnerable party.”_

_“Indeed! Many monsters are bigger than humans! It doesn’t take much for a human to be intimidated and retaliate! We can barely land a scratch on some of you.”_

_“Honestly, humans don’t pose much of a threat. Perhaps it is an internal conflict? I am sure that a weaker party would not be so foolish as to challenge a monster.”_

 

_really? and who’s the party trapped inside a city and a few pathetic towns?_ Sans swallows his growl, and directs his glare to his feet.

But Asgore is patient, unruffled by the comments, and he waves a large paw. Alphys shifts nervously to the front of the room, a remote clutched in her shaky hand. She looks as if the humans are going to eat her alive. They probably would.

“Dr. Alphys has taken the liberty of setting up cameras around and within the borders. It is created for the safety of both humans and monsters, of course. Now, would you please direct your attention…”

There’s a group of humans on the screen, all dressed the same; black shirts, black pants, and a white pin on their chest. It seems like some kind of white star, or a white flower, but the camera is too far away to see it clearly.

A few monster workers are hanging around in an alleyway, smoking and talking. They look visibly nervous as the humans approach, immediately trying to move off. However, one of the humans spreads his arms wide, as if he meant no harm. The monsters turn to each other, confused.

In that moment of hesitance, the humans charge them.

The camera footage has no sound, but it’s like everyone can hear them screaming. The hall is deathly silent, grim and solemn as the monsters are reduced to a pile of ash and dust in the alleyway. Papyrus is staring at his lap, with such a look of conflict on his gentle face that Sans wants to put his hands over his eyes, like he did when he was little.

 

But they’re not little, anymore. No longer children whispering their wishes to echo flowers. Now that they’ve finally gotten their wish, is it too late to say ‘be careful what you wish for’?

Maybe Sans should have been more specific.

 

There are other videos, more footage, and most of them contain the mysterious group with the white flower pin.

“As you can see, these monsters have done nothing to deserve this. One of the humans in the group called themselves the Datura, claiming to be some sort of protection group for humans…”

“How can we believe your footage?” A fat, balding man interrupts rudely, his beady eyes two dark spots of skepticism. “It could have been edited, or remade. And the claims that you’ve made so far, they don’t have anything to do with us! We don’t know, and have never authorised any group like this!”

_“Shouldn’t this be a problem for the police force within your city? This is happening in your territory, after all. We can’t stop humans from leaving and entering as they please-”_

“Please.” Asgore lifts his hands, trying to placate them. “I did not mean to offend humans in general. I am only saying I wish for your help-”

_“How can we trust in your power and independence as a leader, if you can’t even control such little incidents occurring in the city?”_

_“Mr. Dreemur, are you accusing us of murder? You know that in our agreement, that is a direct call for war!”_

 

The room descends into madness, into chaos, and Sans can’t take it. His eye sockets darken, and he quietly teleports out of the room.  

 

Grillby’s is warm, the gates to heaven after the hellhole that he left behind. He knows Papyrus will get mad at him later, but he just can’t sit there anymore. It’s been years. Years of playing ‘one step forward, two steps back’. Though to Sans, it’s feels more like he’s been shoved fifty steps back up against the wall.  

_“Sans.”_ Grillby is standing in front of him, so close that his flames brush against Sans’ suit. The bar is almost empty, only a rabbit monster asleep in the corner. _“Sans.”_

“ey, grillbz. the man i wanted to see.” He really needed a strong drink. But Grillby doesn’t seem to be interested in what he’s having, flames flickering agitatedly.

 

_“Is she with you?”_

“who?” Sans is confused for a moment, but Grillby motions to the fire escape, and he realises that he’s talking about you. “oh. nah, i just came from that goddamned human meeting.” Grillby wrings his wrists together worriedly.  Sans has a strange, sinking feeling in his gut. He doesn’t even have a gut. “what’s wrong?”

_“She didn’t come to work. She never misses a day of work, and I was afraid she might have fallen ill, like before. So I brought her something to eat.”_ Sans swallows, feeling his bones creak as they tense up. He’s never heard Grillby talk so much in one setting. _“Her door is open, and there’s no one at home. I found this on the floor.”_ He removes something from his pocket, and holds it up.

  _“What is Datura?”_

Sans turns to ice completely.

**“...a monster-hate group has been roaming around the streets of Ebott-”**

**“...dusting monsters over a period of time...”**

**“One of the humans in the group called themselves the Datura, claiming to be some sort of protection group for humans…”**

Grillby stares at the little white card in his palm, confused and hurt. _“Why would she require human protection services? Against what, exactly? I don’t understand. Sans, do you-”_

He looks up as the bell tinkles faintly. The bar is empty.

 

Sans is gone.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "running through the heat heart beat, you shine like  
> silver in the sunlight  
> you light up my cold heart  
> we're running around and around, like nothing else could matter in our life  
> but wait, but wait, but wait  
> the sun will stop shining soon  
> and you'll be dark in my life
> 
> yeah you'll be gone"
> 
> 'love like this' -kodaline. 
> 
> woop is the story making sense yet because my brain is not. there are too many things i just- *jumps on 'the color of chaos' suitcase* it!! won't!! fit!! 
> 
> goodnight friends (´；ω；｀)… thanks for reading!!


	8. the color of choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi (o′∀`o)

Someone is crying.

 

You try to lift your head, but your entire body seems to have turned to lead. You can’t move. You can’t move…! Panic seizes your chest, and you try to pry open your eyelids at least, but your whole body’s sunken, tied down, drowning in half-lucid dreams. You can’t break out of it.

The crying hitches on a sob, and your heart sinks at the sound. Is it Jun? Is Jun crying? Is he _hurt?_ You struggle harder, but you only manage to turn your head to the side. Someone is sitting on the floor, a distance away from you. They’re crouched over as they cry, face buried in their hands. You can’t see much of them, your vision darkening at the edges.

“Jun…?” Jeez, your throat sounds like it went through a chainsaw. The figure halts, and looks up at you.

 

It’s not Jun.

It’s...your face. You’re looking at your own face, eyes wide and cheeks streaked with tears. Your hair's a mess, and you’re wearing your old clothes from the day of the evacuation. Your jeans are ripped and bloody at the knees from running and falling over too much.

“Mommy?” You wince as you hear your voice. Younger, softer, so afraid back then. “Daddy? Please, I’m so scared!” The crying starts anew, louder and more desperate this time. “M-Moom! Dad! D-Don’t leave me here alone! I-I’m so scared!” You wish you could put your hands over your ears to block it out. Hearing yourself calling out so helplessly, so vulnerably, rips open every old wound you ever had.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being bad! I-I promise I’ll be good from now on, I _swear!_ P-Please come back!” Your double is wailing now, head thrown back as she screams into nothing. Fat, anguished tears pour down her cheeks. Your throat tightens as her grief puts you into a chokehold. “I don’t want to be alone! _I don’t want to be alone!”_

But nobody came.

 

You don’t want to be here. Pushing at the edges of the nightmare, you shove, struggle, and will your heavy eyelids to open. You can feel the dream clawing at you, trying to drag you back down.

“Oh, goodness!”

The surprised, warm voice helps to ground you, and you wrench yourself from the grips of the dream, opening your eyes fully.

_Agh,_ not a good idea. The lights in the room are too bright, and they blind you temporarily. Still, you keep your eyes wide open. Anything is better than sinking back into sleep right now.

 

“You’re finally awake! I’m so sorry, the dosage we gave you was miscalculated, it must have been such a pain. You were accidentally given quite an overdose. How are you feeling?”

Huh? Overdose? Your vision focuses slowly, and you find yourself in a large bed, covered in a plush, expensive looking duvet. You run your fingers over it appreciatively as you search for the voice.

The woman at your door stares down at you, looking as bright-eyed and put together as she did before. She reaches down to tuck your hair behind your ear lovingly, manicured nails scraping lightly against your face.

“It’s alright, everything is going to be okay,” she croons, and her smooth voice is almost hypnotising enough that you want to believe her. But her cold fingers against your sweat-flushed cheeks chills you, and you jolt away from her touch, trying to sit up.

 

Something is weighing you down on your side, and you look down to see Jun cuddled up to you, fast asleep. His dead weight on you caused half of your body to go numb, explaining that weird sensation of not being able to move in your dream.

“Shh, don’t wake him. He was very agitated when you were unconscious, but I suppose that is to be expected.” She gives you a perfect, sugary-sweet smile, poised in her chair like a newscaster ready for the camera. “But he’s such a good, smart little boy. He was placated quite easily when I explained it all to him.”

“W-Why’d you bring me here? Who the hell are you?” You want to be angry, to feel indignation at being drugged and kidnapped from your own home. But there’s something dangerous about this woman. Like a reflective surface under a weak light, you would sometimes catch glimpses of a dark expression in her warm eyes. Fear and caution straps you back firmly, and your throat hurts too much to give her a piece of your mind anyway.

 

“Here.” She helps to shift Jun off you, and props you up on the bed. Your head swims for a moment as you move, but it’s much more comfortable talking like this. The room around you is small and private, but luxurious. Cream carpets line the floor, and tall lamps glow a soft gold in the background, adding to the coziness of the room. She’s sitting on a plush, floral embroidered chair drawn up next to the bed, all fancy-schmancy. She fits in with the general lush and calm of the room. You do not.

Something sweet-smelling and herbal hits your nose, and you glance down to see a cup of warm tea in a white teacup, steaming in front of your face.

“Peace offering?” she asks, looking a little sheepish. “I suppose I have much to explain.”

“You do.” You don’t bother to hide the sharpness in your tone, even as you accept her tea. Your throat is killing you right now.

“It wasn’t our intention to tranquilize you at all,” she starts, dark eyes widening earnestly. “We were only afraid you would make a fuss when we had to move you out as quickly as possible. We didn’t want to be caught off guard by some _monster_ walking around.” Her dainty nose wrinkles in disgust at the word ‘monster’. “Especially the huge, skeletal one. God, isn’t he scary! I bet you two were so traumatised.” She pats your lap, giving you a wide-eyed look, waiting for you to agree. You almost choke on your tea, and it burns your tongue.

 

“He’s only one monster, and there were so many of you,” you mumble through your swelling tongue. She looks surprised, and throws her head back, straight pearly teeth gleaming in a high pitched laugh. She thinks you’re joking, but her smile fades away when she realises you’re not.

“Oh, honey.” She smooths back a glossy curl that’s escaped from her hairdo, and gives you such a pitying, patient smile that it irks you. “It’s a wonder you survived so long in a place like that. Listen.” She shifts her chair closer, and you resist the urge to move back. Instead, your hand threads through Jun’s soft, downy hair. His presence gives you courage.

 

“Monsters say they’re are made of magic. That’s a load of bullshit. _We’ve_ found out that ‘magic’ is really a simplified word for malleable energy. They are able to dispense and use this energy in whichever way they please, drawing it from their bodies.” She twirls a lock of hair between her fingers, an excited glint in her dark eyes. “Well, humans can’t. Because we’re made of physical matter that is unable to conduct this energy safely, once we get hit by ‘magic’, we sustain damage.”

You frown, thinking it over. She’s good at what she does, explaining what sounds like complicated information in relatively simple terms. It does kind of make sense.

But you wonder if it almost sounds...too simplified.

“So, what makes a monster dangerous? Certainly not their silly, made-up statistics. Attack levels, defense levels.” She rolls her big, round eyes, scoffing. “The monster king thinks we’re idiots, that we’ll eat whatever he feed us. Humans certainly didn’t get to this point through _sitting down and taking what we were given.”_

You don’t know what to say.

 

She draws out a small, flickering device from her pocket. It almost looks like the classic iPod, except a little chunkier. It makes you uneasy, even though you don’t exactly know why.

“What makes a monster dangerous, is the _amount of magic_ they have in them.”

It looks sinister, resting in her palm. Like a remote detonator from an old Bond film.

“The world doesn’t know it yet, but our people have managed to scrunge up a device to detect magical energy. We’ve been doing a little field research ourselves, rating danger levels of the different monsters based on the amount of energy they have. Thankfully, the device is a big success! We haven’t lost any men in the process, just scrapes and bruises. Can’t say the same for those underground pests.” She gives you a playful wink.

Oh, the tea was a bad idea. You think you’re going to throw up.

 

“Field...research…?”

“Yup!” She pops the ‘p’ cheerfully. “We’re trying to find out if the amount of energy they have relates to how strong they are!”

You swallow hard, feeling your gut churn. If she notices your discomfort, she doesn’t say anything about it.

“...and what’s the verdict?” She looks absolutely elated that you asked, like she’s simply bursting at the seams to tell you.

“Well, we’re still trying to come up with a formal classification. But for now, we simply split the subjects into two groups.” She holds up two fingers, a cutesy little peace sign. “Regular Monsters, and Boss Monsters.” She giggles at the names. “It kinda sounds like a video game, huh? We were kinda inspired by that, when we were going around hunting. It’s almost like a quest, y’know?”

 

Going around hunting. You clap your hand over your mouth, feeling the tea trying to crawl back up your throat.

“Oh dear.” She gives a sympathetic ‘tsk’, clicking her tongue. “It seems your body is still sensitive to the tranquilizer. Some of the side effects do include short term nausea and headaches. Maybe the tea can wait a little, hm?” Her hands lift the teacup away, and you’re left staring at your empty lap. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to look at her. Something dark and prickly clings to your spine, and tugs at your heart. Guilt? Shame? Horror?

You try to distract yourself by smoothing your hand over Jun’s cheek, and he presses his face into your palm, like he knows you’re hurting. It helps to ease the nausea a little.

 

“If you’re so successful with all that, why’d you need to bring me here?” You continue to rub your thumb in small circles against Jun’s chubby cheek. He gives a pleased sigh. “I’m sure you can take care of them yourself.”

“Darling, we couldn’t just leave you and a child there, all alone! It just wouldn’t be humane!” She sounds almost alarmed, and a little sad. “I understand that there are many unfortunate people who were left behind, but right now, we can’t afford to get every human out of there, y’know?”

_Yes you can,_ you think bitterly. _You invested enough money in men and equipment and research, that’s enough to pull all of us out of there, instead of purging the city of monsters._

“And I just can’t stand the fact that monsters are taking over so much land, forcing humans out of their city, the city they’ve been living in for years. It just isn’t right!”

“Why isn’t it right?” You want to shout, but your voice comes out as a choked off whisper. You can’t help but think of Grillby, trying to run a business in the midst of war, trying his best to provide the one warm, good escape in a cold, harsh world. You can’t help thinking of all the regular customers who often asked Grillby about you, monsters who paid lovely compliments to the mysterious cook behind the door, who sent you gifts far too generous for your cooking, who kept you afloat and determined when your human neighbours wouldn’t give you a second glance, wouldn’t open their doors for you when Jun had gotten sick and you needed help...

“They haven’t done anything wrong.” Tears are stinging your eyes, blurring your vision, burning hotly at the back of your throat. The thought of any of them being used for experiments squeezes your chest painfully. “I don’t understand. You have so much, why won’t you help us? Why are you hurting them, instead?” Two wet spots appear on the duvet.

 

“They’re **_monsters._ ** ” Her soft voice is gone, and she sounds harsh, dark, predatory. She grates on the word ‘monsters’ with so much hatred that it chills you. “They live underground for a reason. They don’t belong on the surface. **They don’t deserve to take what isn’t theirs.”**

The silence after that is charged. She’s no longer sitting easy, but stiff and upright, her mouth pressed into an angry, red-lipsticked line. Somehow, it almost feels like her agenda against monsters is personal, not just brainwashed, follow-the-leader hate.

“You’re wrong.” Your own voice surprises you, soft and shivery as it is. “You’re wrong,” you repeat, louder, more steady. “This world doesn’t belong to us, either. We share it with other species. Billions of other non-human creatures. W-Why can’t we just share it with them, too?”

A sharp pain pierces your arm, and you gasp, trying to jerk backwards. But her manicured talons are sinking themselves into your skin, strong and unrelenting.

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, dear.” Her voice is quiet now, but there’s an underlying tension, like she’s about to blow up in your face. “You’re...not one of those, are you?”

“You’re hurting me! L-Let go!” You try to shove back again, and Jun blinks awake at the harsh movement.

“You’re not a _monster sympathiser,_ are you?”

Cold sweat beads on your forehead, and fear floods you like an ice bath. Why has she got it out for them so bad? What is she going to do to you? You’ve blurted out  too much. If you lied now to save yourself and Jun, would she even believe you?

 

“Yuena.”

Jun’s voice, quiet and certain, slices through the tension effortlessly. The woman (Yuena?) eases her grip slowly, and you wince as she pries her nails off you. There are definitely marks in your arm, five small red crescents where her nails were. Tiny dots of blood are starting to well up on your skin.

“You said you weren’t gonna hurt us.” Jun moves forward, but you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him to you instinctively. He doesn’t seem perturbed by his restraint, choosing to lean on you comfortably, arm wrapped around your shoulders like he always does. He furrows his brows, tilting his head. “Did you lie?”

Yuena looks stunned, like she’s been slapped. He’s raising his pitch, sounding very young and very lost. You know that voice, he uses it to wheedle the stale, soggy fries from you when you try to throw them away. But hearing him use it in this scenario is...strange. It’s weird. He doesn’t really look like the same Jun you knew.

“Of course not!” Her face twists back into its usual, camera-ready smile, beaming widely even though Jun can’t see it. “I was just...making sure we’re on the same page.”

 

“Hmm.” Jun draws thoughtful circles in your shoulder as you hold onto him tighter. It feels like he’s comforting you somehow, instead of you protecting him. Perched on your lap, his stance is relaxed, confident. Nothing is making any sense. Why isn’t Jun afraid of her? Why is Yuena so wary of Jun? “I’ll let it go this time.”

Let what go?

Yuena stares, wide smile frozen uncomfortably on her face. “You’ve got it, little boss. Now, I’ve got to brief your sister on what we agreed on, okay?”

Sister? Agreed on? You manage to find your voice again, and it breaks out of you, a little cracked.

“W-What did you agree on? How could you strike up an agreement with a child? I am the adult-”

She cuts you off with a flick of her wrist, smiling down at you. Jun rests his head contentedly on your shoulder. Somehow, it feels like you’re the child, the overreacting child throwing a tantrum.

“It’s nothing really difficult. You’ll agree with me once I’ve explained it all to you.” She’s all business again, friendly and relaxed in her chair. “We’ve been trying to track down one of the most troublesome, but elusive monsters yet. Always interfering with our research. He seems to be rather...invested in you lately, and it’s exactly the perfect solution for both of us, isn’t that right, Jun Yi?” He gives a little sigh against your skin.

 

“Solution,” you repeat dumbly. “He’s not any trouble.”

“There’s no need to be all modest with us, darling! Jun Yi filled us all in on that monster. Terrible piece of work, he is. But don’t you worry about us! It’s our job, after all! We only want what’s best for you.” She waves the energy-tracking device, and gives you a winning beam.

“And what do _you_ want?” The iciness in your tone doesn’t seem to deter her at all. In fact, she looks pleased that you asked.

 

“We want you to lure him out.”

 

___________________________________________

  
Sans curses the thick fog in the city.

He wishes there was some way he’d thought of tagging you, but he’d never thought everything would go to shit so quickly. The first thing he thought of was that he’s been found out, that they somehow managed to single out the human his soul frizzles itself over. Maybe it’s karma, maybe it’s pure bad luck. Maybe he’s let his guard down again, maybe he’s not working hard enough to make sure no one is trying to get even with him.

He doesn’t **_know._ **

 

He’s almost exhausted his reserve of energy now, teleporting all over the city. Honestly, you could be anywhere by now, out of the city, out of the border, out of his grasp. Maybe the Datura were really just protecting humans, and you were somewhere, safe and finally amongst your kind. He doesn’t want to admit it, but his soul selfishly stutters at that idea. It’s the worst possible outcome for him, even if he hopes that it’s true.

Anything is better than you getting hurt because of him.

 

_“How goes it?”_

He’s somehow found his way back into Grillby’s, taking his usual spot by the counter. It’s like his soul knows to drag him back to the same, safe sanctuary whenever it feels particularly bad. Grillby’s voice is low, urgent, bright amber eyes flickering with hope. There’s already a drink in front of Sans, and he gulps it down quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The alcohol burns down his throat, but it does nothing to quell his fear.

He shakes his head, and watches the hope fade from Grillby’s eyes.

“nothin’ on your side either, eh?” Grillby wipes his shot glasses silently, sullenly. Sans takes that as a no. He’d convinced Grillby to stay at the bar, and pick up whatever information he could. Word about humans, especially in groups, always travels fast in a bar.

But the Datura, whoever the fuck they are, are good. _Damn_ good. Before the meeting, Sans had never even heard of the bastards.

 

There’s a pensive silence between them. Neither Grillby nor Sans knows how to deal with it, and there’s no one else they know to ask for help. The topic of humans is a touchy one. Everyone is either afraid or angry, and it’s much too long of a backstory to explain why you’re special.

Sans doesn’t have time.

Grillby silently refills his glass, but he doesn’t want to drink. It will only make him sink deeper into the wild flurry of emotions, make him less in control. He can’t afford that right now. He needs to think. _Think, think, think harder, Sans! You goofball, you lazybones, how could you be so careless! Think!_

“SANS!” His head jerks up at the sound of Papyrus’ voice, but it’s only his phone ringing. Everyone else in the bar grumbles at the sudden loud noise, and Sans raises a hand in apology. Papyrus had recently found out about personalised ring tones, and he had insisted on making one for Sans, as well as everyone else. “PICK UP THE PHONE, SANS!”

He answers it quickly as a frog monster rolls their eyes at him.

 

“sup, bro.”

“SANS! WHAT THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?!”

He cringes at both the volume and the confrontation. God, was he slipping up recently? Why does everyone see through him immediately?

“can’t say i know what you mean, brother o’mine,” he drawls casually, sweat beading on his forehead as he eyes the full glass. Maybe another drink won’t hurt.

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN, BROTHER! WHY IS THE DATURA LOOKING FOR YOU?!”

What? The glass almost cracks in Sans’ grip. He sets it down, hunched over the counter with his phone pressed hard into his skull. The sound of chattering and juke box music seems to fade far into the distance.

“THERE’S A GROUP OF THEM IN THE CITY SQUARE, AND THEY’RE CREATING A BIG MESS OUT OF EVERYTHING!!! UNDYNE IS THREATENING TO KILL THEM ALL IF THEY DON’T LEAVE, BUT THEY WANT TO SEE YOU! SANS, WHAT HAPPENED?! WHAT DID YOU DO?” Papyrus sounds so worried and unsure that Sans’ soul chips off a little bit.

“i...i dunno, bro. i’ll be right there.”

“NO, SANS!” He freezes, halfway off his stool. “I HONESTLY DO NOT KNOW IF YOU SHOULD BE HERE!”

“pap, i can handle ‘em-”

“I DID NOT CALL YOU TO FIGHT! I CALLED YOU TO...TO MAKE SURE YOU ARE OKAY.” Sans’ heart chips even more at that, and his grip on the phone trembles. “UNDYNE AND I, WE’RE HANDLING THIS JUST FINE!”

There’s a sudden hard _thwack!_ in the background, and Sans winces. Is Papyrus fighting while on the phone? That sounds just like him.

 

“bro.” His own voice sounds lost, and even Grillby glances over to him.

“DO NOT DESPAIR, SANS! YOUR BROTHER HAS EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL! YOU CAN COME WITH US NEXT TIME YOUR HP GETS A LITTLE HIGHER! _HEY!!_ HUMAN! THAT’S MY PHONE, GIVE IT BACK!! DON’T BE RUDE-”

Sans stays very still as the receiver scuffles, like the phone is being thrown around.

 

_“Hello?”_

Sans freezes at the strange new voice. It’s husky and quiet, almost purring into the receiver. A woman’s voice. “Is this Sans?”

He remains silent. The voice only chuckles in response, like it _knows._

“I have some people very excited to meet you, Sans.” Right on cue,  your voice rings out from the background, far away. You sound scared, and it makes his magic flicker furiously, looking for something to protect, to attack.

_‘Don’t come here, Sans! Hide! Please, tell everyone to hide, I can’t-’_

There’s a low whistling and a loud thud, and Sans’ feels as if his soul is cracking at the ominous sound.

“Hurry now, little monster!” The woman is back, crooning into the phone. Sans wants to snap her neck. “We’re all waiting.”

 

**“you wouldn’t hurt your own kind.”**

“Oh? I wouldn’t?” She sounds smug, like she knew Sans wouldn’t be able to stay quiet. “Then you don’t know humans very well at all, do you? Open a history book sometime.” She clicks her teeth irritably. “Actually, nevermind. Just come here, and I’ll give you a personal lesson, how’s that? Toodles.”  

The call cuts off, and Sans flings his phone hard against the wall. The patrons in the bar jump, looking nervous.

It’s a bait, a trap. He knows it. _Everyone in the world knows it._

But the punishment for not biting the bait is too much. He just can’t risk you. He can’t.

Gathering up the broken pieces of his phone, he tries to formulate a plan. Hopefully, his soul won’t be in the same condition as his phone at the end of this.

 

__________________________________

 

The winter air is biting, sinking right into your bones. Cowering and waiting on the flat roof of a squat building, it seems ten times colder up here with the wind whistling past you. You’re shivering, wrapped around Jun, who doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. He’s listening intently, pale hair whipping around his cheeks, and there’s a strange glow to his face you’ve never seen before.

One of the men tries to offer you his jacket, but you refuse him vehemently. They can all go fuck themselves.

Yuena stands at the edge of the short building, surveying the absolute chaos below her with the air of a reigning queen. Her expensive burgundy coat flutters in the wind, her curls even glossier and shinier against the bleak background. Her smile is sharp and bright as she watches the fights, the screaming and shouting not even the least disturbing to her.

 

“Jun.” He tilts his head up at you. “Why did you agree to her plan? She’s going to hurt Sans!”

“Yuena is right.” He doesn’t look conflicted in the least. “We haven’t done anything wrong. Monsters should leave us alone. Sans promised he would, but he broke that promise. I know Yuena won’t.”

“But Sans hasn’t done anything to us!”

“He threatened to, and that’s enough for me. I’m not sitting around and waiting for him to decide when he’s done playing, and kill us eventually.”

“Jun! You don’t really believe that, do you? Sans isn’t like that, I swear! He kept his promise, and he didn’t hurt us!” You don’t care if the others hear you, if they think you’re a dirty monster sympathiser. You can’t believe that Jun could be this cold, that he could be this distant from the situation. “Jun, please! This is crazy. Let’s just go home already, okay? I’m not leaving here without you.”

“I’m not going.” He has that stubborn set to his jaw, and you know this is going to be a tough fight. “I’ll _see_ to it that monsters get what they deserve.” He taps under his eyes, but his usual smile at his own joke is off, less teasing, more sinister. This isn’t like Jun. This isn’t the kid you know at all. Is he possessed? What is even going on? Why are you the only one who feels nothing is making any sense?

 

You’re so alone. You’re all alone up here. No one is standing with you. The only other human you trust has turned his back on you.

“Lee Jun Yi!” You jump up, almost shoving him over in the process. Frustrated, frightened tears are prickling in your eyes. “Have you forgotten who we owe our lives to, who kept us safe and alive all these years! Just because one of them is suddenly an ass for a while, doesn’t mean they all deserve to die! Stop being such a brat! ”

The winter wind freezes your tears to your cheeks, and Jun doesn’t even look up at you.

“I know you’re not that kind of person, Jun, so please, just talk to me. Tell me why, _please.”_ You wipe at your face furiously, your fingers numb with cold.

Jun gives a mumble, but you catch it anyway.

“His hands are not as clean as you think.”

Your face twists in confusion, but before you can speak, something warm and heavy wraps around you. Shrieking, you try to fight your way out, but the smoky, earthy scent hits you, and your body goes limp.

 

“Sans.”

His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper. He draws you closer inside his oversized coat, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette softly, slowly, almost like a sigh. It curls from his mouth in an elegant swirl, and disappears into the greyness all around. That must be where his smoky scent comes from.

**“heya, doll.”**

Yuena whips around immediately, eyes wide, red lipsticked mouth open in a glossy ‘O’. Nobody moves for a second, all paralysed by the towering monster appearing in their midst without them noticing.

Sans gives them all a lazy grin, then drops his cigarette, crushing it with the heel of his shoe.

 

“Our guest of honor!” Yuena recovers first, pretty mouth curled into a vicious, wide smile. She spreads her arms, like she’s expecting Sans to give her a hug.

Her men immediately form a human wall, a formation of guns and baseball bats and hulking muscle. They hide Jun, almost covering him from sight. You wail, trying to reach out for him, but Sans holds you firmly. Jun hangs his head, and turns away from you.

_Jun…?_

 

Bony fingers gently tilt your face up. You blink up at him with teary eyes, and he looks conflicted for a moment, before his grin widens almost unnaturally, and the lights fade from his eye sockets.

You hate that expression.

“S-Sans…?” Your fingers clutch at his sweater, and even though he’s kind of scaring you, you feel safe, hidden inside his coat, pressed up against him.

**“tell me, doll.”** His voice has gone low, dark and threatening. You can feel the wall of men shifting uneasily, on guard. Guns rustle and snap loudly in the background, aimed and ready, but Sans doesn’t seem to care, his thumb running over your tear-stained cheek.

 

**“which one of them made you cry?”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /everyone points at jun/
> 
> seems like reader is a bit of a crybaby, eh? heheh, um, well...room for character development, i guess? ┐(ツ)┌  
> comments/feedback are adored! (´∀｀●) thanks for reading!


	9. the color of darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me a while. i kinda wanna rewrite it a whole other way because i keep thinking of new stuff, but if i change it AGAIN i will never upload it so...  
> here it is haha ヽ(；▽；)ノ

The wind is howling.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at Sans, wrapped up in his warm coat while chaos is waiting to rain down all around you. His question lingers in the air, waiting, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want a fight. You’re not here for a fight.

Standing next to him, protected in his arms, is like waiting in the eye of the storm. You can see everything clearly, but you can’t stop the storm coming for you.

 

**“Release the human!”**

The bellowed command makes you flinch, and Sans catches it immediately, pressing you closer. You want to bury your face into the warmth of his sweater and pretend nothing is happening.

But you can’t.

 

 **“If you don’t release your hostage in five seconds, we’ll open fire!”** _What?!_ Fear prickles coldly over your skin, and you clutch at Sans, terrified. **“Step back, and get down on your knees! Hands over your head!”** His gaze darkens even more, but he doesn’t even look over at them, doesn’t budge an inch.

**“Five!”**

“W-Wait! D-Don’t shoot, _please!!”_

**“Four!”**

“This is all just a big misunderstanding! Please! I’m fine! He’s not hurting-”

**“Three!”**

“-anyone…”

**“Two!”**

“save it, doll. they’re not listenin.” There’s a hard edge to his grin, almost blurred by your tears.

**“One!”**

 

Is this all your fault? Is this karma, for everything bad you’ve ever done in your life? You realise what Sans already knew when he stepped onto the roof.  They weren’t going to stop, not even for a human in his arms. In fact, you could be their defense for needing to take a life.

They weren’t here for negotiations. They were here for war.

**“Fire!”**

The click of a hundred triggers pulling simultaneously explodes in your ears, all around you. Your stomach drops as Sans falls backwards smoothly, bringing you with him. The torrent of bullets whizz past your head, slicing through the air, hot and sharp. They leave a trail of blazing heat against your skin.

For one long, terrifying moment, you think Sans has been hit, and you brace yourself for the bullets coming for you.

But he continues falling, falling and falling. A cold, empty darkness swallows the both of you, leaving behind the sounds of shouting and bullets ricocheting off the empty concrete where you had been. You’re screaming, your throat straining the only indication that you’re making any sound. The darkness around you absorbs all and any noise.

There isn’t a sign of light anywhere, and you can’t feel Sans beneath you any longer. Your brain starts to dissociate, because the absolute silence and darkness and never-ending freefall makes you feel like the world you’ve accidentally left behind is gone forever, like you’re floating in space with no return.

 

You give in to it, and faintly, you can somehow hear a slow, rumbly whisper. Or is that just your depraved mind hallucinating?

_“Curious, yet curiouser.”_

You strain your ears to hear it, desperate for any sign that you’re not alone.

_“Dark, yet darker.”_

Your eyes catch a glimpse of something, faded and glitchy like static. A white hand reaches out for you, all fuzzy and blurred at the edges. You stretch out your arm too, trying to hold onto it.

_“Not yet, not yet. Not for you.”_

A light suddenly opens up beneath you, too bright for you to see the glitching hand, and breaks the darkness.

“Gah!”

 

You land rather hard, straight onto a pile of trash bags, thankfully. But the impact is so great that you bounce and roll off them painfully, and you can feel your back and shoulder muscles screaming. Lying on the rough pavement for a moment, you try to catch your breath before struggling to sit up, brushing your hair out of your face.

Something...someone is slumped against the alley walls, a distance from you. You squint, trying to focus in the dim light.

It’s Sans. He’s not moving, much. Your legs feel weak, fueled mostly by fear, as you scramble desperately to stand, and hurry towards him in a stumbling half-walk, half-crawl.

“S-Sans! Sans!”

His eyes are shut tight, and it seems to take him a bit of effort to open them when he hears your voice.

 

“heya.” Even his voice sounds exhausted, slow and breathless. His skull has several dark scuff marks where he must have been scratched up during the rough landing, and there’s a big bluish bruise next to his mouth. It must hurt a lot, because he winces when he grins at you. “you hurt? i didn’t mean to let go, just...my energy’s kinda depleted. goin’ through the void’s kinda tricky if you’re not...focused.” He takes in a shaky, tired breath. “didn’t mean ta give ya such a scare, it was the only way out. ya sure ya ain’t hurt?”  

You shake your head, trying to smile back to show him you’re okay, but it wavers, and looks more like a grimace than a smile. How could you? You want to cry at the sight of him, all hurt and banged up because of you. Teleporting must take an awful lot of magic, though it explains why Sans is always there without anyone noticing.

But he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to come for you, didn’t have to risk his life and waste his magic to take you away. He could’ve been safe, at home, away from hateful humans out for his head.  

 

Your trembling fingers gently brush his jaw, cradling his face, and he makes a soft, pained noise.

“Oh, Sans. I’m so _sorry,”_ you choke out, and your tears fall, little wet splotches on his face. His grin drops entirely, and he looks so guilty you’d think he was the one who started this war.

“not yer fault,” he grunts, eyes softening as you try to swallow your sobs, in case someone heard you. “please don’t cry, babydoll. these scrapes ain’t cus of ya.” You give an incredulous sniffle.

“Yes, yes it _is!_ Why’d you come? Why’d you come and take me? I’m human, it shouldn’t matter!” you blubber, wiping at your face furiously with the heel of your palms. “Now you’re all hurt, what am I gonna do? _What am I gonna do?_ I-I can’t do anything to help!” A fresh wave of tears stings your eyes at that helpless thought.

”Why do you even care about me? I’m human, shouldn’t you hate me?! You wanted to kill me! You wouldn’t be hurt now if you did. So, it’d probably be best if you did,” you continue brokenly, clutching at the ends of your hair as the familiar, burning, delusional self-hatred creeps up your spine. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll drive you away eventually, if you’re not already dead. That’s all I do. That’s all I ever do.” Your head bows further and further with every word, your hate dragging you down, swallowing you whole like quicksand. “I heard human souls make monsters stronger. Better. You should take mine, make something useful out of me at least.”

 

His eyes widen, and something dark and lost flickers over his face briefly. He bites back his grunts of pain as he tries to shift closer to you.

“i won’t.” He sounds certain, not even a hint of a lazy drawl in his voice.

_“Why?”_

“because i don’t hate you, not even a little bit.”

“...why?”

“you always treated me like a person.” The lights in his eyes are soft, glowing. “even when i was threatening, even when i was scaring you. you were scared, i know, but all you cared about was trying to help me wipe ketchup offa my face for some fuckin' reason,” he laughed, though he had to stop quickly because it hurt. “ya gave me a second chance to make up to you when you didn’t need to. you treated me like a friend even though you barely knew me. you think the best of people, even people like me who said they'd kill ya for steppin' outta line. you told me to run, when ya could’ve gotten rid of me.” Thick, bony fingers brush ever so gently over your jawline, catching your tears. They’re still falling, but you hadn’t even noticed. “and you’re crying like the world is endin’, because i got hurt.”

He sighs, and your hair flutters softly at the movement. You can’t comprehend all of what he’s saying.

 

“...that’s really articulate.” You slap your hand over your big mouth at that insensitive comment, staring at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean-!”

“oh, i know i can be charming if i wanna.” His smirk is small, teasing, but it’s still good to see it on his face. “maybe i deserve a few kisses for being so good while i’m half-dyin’ in the streets, eh?”

**_“You’re dying?!”_ **

“ah hell, doll. i didn’t mean it like that…”

Oh, what the hell were you doing, sobbing all over him while he comforted you, when he was the one in grave condition? You look around desperately, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

 

Wait a minute, you know this place! Grillby’s is just around the corner! Well, a few corners, but still. What a damn stroke of luck.

You turn back to excitedly to Sans, alight with hope. “G-Grillby’s bar is just a little distance away! I-I can go get help!” You move to stand, but his hand snaps up, catching on the edge of your shirt. He has a little worried frown, brows furrowed together.

“...can’t let ya go alone. there might still be...others. wandering around. lookin’.”

You give him what you hope is a reassuring smile.

“It’ll be okay, Sans. I’ll be careful.” He seems like he wants to protest again, but you lean down to brush a feather’s kiss against the bruise next to his mouth, soft and apologetic. He pauses, a little surprised at the unexpected kiss, but he turns his head so he can give you a proper one, pressing firmly against your lips.

Despite everything, the tenderness still makes your cheeks heat a little.

“stay outta sight.” The gruff whisper against your mouth almost makes you melt, but you try your hardest to pull yourself together. Sans needs you.

“I will.” His hand falls reluctantly from your shirt as you stand, starting to make your way towards the bar. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to have sprained your ankle or anything. You can feel him watching you till you turn the corner, out of his line of sight.

 

The small, familiar lamp above the kitchen door, hidden along the alleyway, fills you with hope. You lift your hand and rap your knuckles on the wood, in the pattern Grillby taught you.

_Ra-ta-tata-ra-ta._

Almost immediately, the door swings open, nearly catching you in the face. Grillby must have been expecting someone from how quickly the door opens. His amber eyes widen as he takes you in, his hand still frozen on the doorknob. The sight of him, warm and steady and bright, so reassuring after the horror you’ve been through, makes you want to cry again.

 

“B-Boss, I need your help- _oomph!”_ You’ve been lifted off your feet in a tight, warm embrace. The heat of him chases all the icy hints of winter away, and it feels like standing in the afternoon sunlight, free and safe and happy.

You can feel your traitorous tears welling up with relief, and you tilt your head back so they don’t drip onto him. How could one person cry this many times?

He sets you down quickly, going down on one knee as he spins you firmly by your shoulders. He must be looking for injuries, but you pat his hands reassuringly.

“I’m okay! B-But Sans! I need help for Sans!” Grillby frowns, tilting his head. “He says his magic is...depleted? And he’s hurt, really, really hurt. Dying kinda hurt.”  

 

Grillby nods grimly, and rises to stand, dusting down his pants. You realise he already has his coat on, dressed to head out even though the bar doesn’t close for hours.

“The bar’s closing early?”  

He nods, flames flickering a little irritably. _“King’s orders. Everyone to stay indoors.”_

“Oh.” You feel your stomach drop at his words. This was turning out to be a lot worse than you thought. What kind of people were the Datura? _And Jun was still with them!_ You needed to get him back as soon as possible. And give him a firm talking-to when you were both safe at home.

_Please let him be safe, you just need some more time!_

 

You jog to keep ahead of Grillby as you lead the way, his long strides keeping up with you easily. You can see Sans, a hulking figure still crumpled in the alley. He’s barely moving now, eyes shut. His hand is open, loosely curled at his side, frozen still. Much too still.

You feel your heart stop.

“Sans?” You almost trip over yourself in your mad dash towards him, hands hovering over him anxiously as you sink to your knees. Your hands brush over his skull, but his head only drops heavily into your hands, still and unmoving.

No, please, _no._ You can’t be too late.

 

Grillby’s gloved hand is covering yours, a strange expression in his eyes. You can barely see him through your tears, just a red and orange blur.

“I-I killed him, it’s my fault.” Your voice sounds far away, lost. “W-What do I do now…? What do I do, he’s dead because of m-me…!”

He shifts your hand, lifting it from Sans’ face. You let him, silent and confused, as he presses your palm firmly to Sans’ chest.

It’s moving. Faintly, but it’s there. Sans is still breathing, slow, deep breaths, almost indiscernible. Your legs give you from under you, and you sit there for a moment, feeling Sans breathe. Of course he’s alive. How could he not be? He would have turned to dust. In your panic, you didn’t really think about that.

 

“T-Thanks, boss.” You scrub at your face. Grillby makes a little disapproving crackle, and hands you a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket. “S-sorry, I kinda overreacted there.” You accept it shyly, and he gives a satisfied flicker. “Teleportation must really take a chunk out of him, huh?” You give a watery laugh.

 _“Not usually.”_ He carefully pulls Sans upright, turning to heave the skeleton onto his back. Grillby looks a lot stronger than you give him credit for. You stare a little too much as he gets up smoothly onto his feet, Sans slumped over his back. “ _He’d been at it the entire night, looking for you.”_ Oh. You feel worse, if that’s even possible. Why didn’t he just think you’ve switched sides? Silly bonehead.

 _“Come along.”_ Grillby’s arms are wound under Sans’ legs, holding him in a secure piggy-back, but his hand is still free. He uses it to tug you along.

 

“W-Wait! I still, I still have to get Jun! He’s still back there!” you plead, trying to remove yourself unsuccessfully. His grip on you is firm. “You go on ahead without me!” Grillby frowns, obviously displeased by your choice of action.

 _“I’ll go with you.”_ That revelation scares you more. You shake your head so furiously you almost give yourself whiplash. _“Can’t!_ The humans, they’re going to hurt monsters. But they won’t hurt me, it’ll be fine!” _You think. They did just attempt to shoot you, but...you can reason with them this time, right? No monsters around. No excuse._

Grillby’s frown deepens, and he refuses to let go. _“I’ll go with you,”_ he insists. _“Be patient.”_ His stern tone makes you want to obey immediately, and you can’t shake off the years of working with him. He’s still your boss, after all.

“...Okay,” you whisper, a reluctant agreement. You let Grillby drag you all the way back to the bar.

 

_________________________________________

 

 _“Stop shooting!”_ Yuena shrieks, waving her arms. _“Stop shooting at fucking nothing, you_ **_idiots!”_ **

The firing ceases, and she glares at the scuffed concrete, empty and solid as ever. She had him. She had him right there, and he just…! She wants to take a gun and shoot all of these useless hunks of meatbags herself. 

Jabbing her fingers hard into her temples, she tries to quell the headache she knows is coming. She needs to calm down. She needs to reform, recalibrate. This was just… an unexpected error. She needs to-

 

“You shot her.” Jun’s solemn voice tears at her nerves, and she directs her glare at him.

“No, I **_didn’t,_ ** ” she hisses, taking a step forward. She has a good mind to shake the little fool. “I was going for the goddamn monster you told me about! Except, _oh,_ you left out the very insignificant fact that _he can fucking disappear into black holes out of nowhere!”_

 _So that’s what happened._ Jun catalogues it, like he catalogues every new piece of information, despite his fear and his fury churning and circling like sharks in his stomach. He can’t see, but he can sense her anger, so intense that the heat radiates off her like an overpowered heater.

 

“You opened fire on a human.” He makes his tone as quietly accusing as possible. “You said you wouldn’t put us in danger. You lied.”

 **_“I did not lie!”_ ** she roars, and the heat burns, stifling hot. “I didn’t fail! That, that monster, he…”

“There was only one of him, between a hundred men and a hundred guns,” Jun reminds her coldly, “and a hundred men of yours couldn’t even land a scratch on him.” She flinches, manicured fingernails digging into her palm. “Wasted my time explaining. Wasted my time trusting in you.” Jun couldn’t hide his bitterness in every word. The Datura were supposed to be their saviours, but now? What now? There was no way he could protect you, no way to keep his little haven safe.

There's a long, drawn out silence as she resumes taking her anger out on her soldiers, and Jun sits blankly on the cold concrete, trying to think. 

All these effort, all these years. Hiding. Laying low. Being careful. And for what? It’s all gone to shit. A serial human killer had torn through his barrier, carefully crafted around the tiny apartment  for years, walked in and out of the place like he owned it. Like he owns you. He just took you, and left.

And Jun couldn’t do anything about it at all.

How long has he been sitting on the roof, in the cold? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? The winter wind numbs him inside and out. He can't take this. 

He needs to get out of here. 

 

“Jun Yi! Where do you think you’re going?! I’m not done with you yet!”

Her shrill shout makes him grates on his nerves like nails on a blackboard. He hates this. He hates feeling helpless, feeling like nothing.

“Do you even think you and your sister can live without our help? We need to catch that monster, and you need us.” He feels her reaching for him before she does, and he sidesteps her neatly, basking in her shock for a moment. He turns, feeling for the railings, and begins making his way down the stairs.

“Why should I continue to tell you what I know, when clearly, it doesn’t help you do _anything?”_ He makes his tone as cold and biting as possible, but Yuena is not deterred.

“You need us just as much as we need you.” The smugness has crept its way back into her tone somehow, and Jun scoffs, increasing his speed.

“We don’t,” he snaps, hands scrabbling at air until he finds a door, and he shoves it open.

 

The city square’s chaos hits him like a heat wave, all shouting and clanging and roaring. He hesitates for a moment, but he hears the click-clack of heels hurrying for him, and he makes his choice.

Jun has barely stumbled around the battlefield for five minutes before he’s picked up by his collar, hoisted high, _high_ above the ground. He yelps, trying to reach behind him to untangle himself, but his fingers brush across bone and he freezes.

_“Jun!”_

He picks out your voice miraculously, a lone cry above the sea of roaring, and it tugs at him desperately. You came back for him. You came to find him. Or maybe he’s just hearing things he wants to hear, and you’re not there at all.

He’s never felt this lost, or lonely, in his entire life. He’s never felt so desperate to be held and hugged and loved. He wished he’d just gone home with you from the start. He lifts his head and cries out your name till his little throat burns, calling and calling and calling.

 

__________________________________________

 

You’re running along the alleyways that lead up to the city square, Grillby following close behind. He’s good at this, keeping low but still quick on his feet, tugging you to duck and hide before someone passes.

 _“It’s not my first war against humans,”_ he’d scoffed lightly as you hopped anxiously in place, begging him not to leave. He takes off his glasses and slots them into their case. _“It’ll be fine.”_

Grillby had been part of the first war between humans and monsters, though he can’t quite remember the details (you think he just doesn’t want to reveal his age). He was a General, Head of the Royal Guard, whatever that was. Sounded fancy, but seemed a little too pompous for sweet old Grillby the bartender.

 

Watching him cheerfully flip a human attacker over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, you gulp. He straightens up, dusts his palms off sharply, and walks towards you with a confident, sure gait, tall and powerful. Scratch that thought. Maybe that title kinda suited him after all.

Also maybe you should count your blessings he doesn’t do that pancake flip to you when you’re late to work.

He breaks the powerful gait to jog over, tilting his head to flicker at you curiously. You give him a thumbs up, enamoured at how quickly he changes from General to your inquisitive old boss in a second.

 

The city square is just around the next corner, and the sight of it fills you with dread. There are bodies on the floor, surrounded and piled on with dust. The air swirls with dust particles and stinks of blood as monsters and humans continue to fight. There’s just...so much of it. So much death and destruction in one place.

You see a little flash of white, and your eye catches onto it immediately, searching past the clouds of dust around you as you move.

 _“Jun!”_ You dash out from the safety of the alleyway. Grillby tries to make a grab for you, but a human charges him, and he’s forced to stop.

If your legs felt like jelly before, they were filled with sand now. You couldn’t run fast enough, eyes darting everywhere at once, shoving past men and monsters alike. It’s a miracle that  everyone’s too stunned at your boldness to take a swing at you.

 

 _“Jun! Ju-uuun!”_ Your throat is almost cracked with your screaming. _Please don’t let him be hurt, please don’t let him be_ **_dead-_ **

Your name rings, high above the crowd, a high-pitched, anguished scream that turns your blood to ice. You’ve never heard Jun scream like that before, and he does it, again and again, calling for you. It burns you from the inside out, makes your body run hot and cold with terror. You shove and fight and claw your way towards it, right to the edge of the city square.

A monster, almost two heads taller than Sans, built strong and lean and dressed in simple armour, is holding Jun by the collar as he thrashes, screaming for you. The other hand holds a large, heavy bone, the edges of it dripping thickly with blood. _Whose blood?_

 _No, not Jun. Not Jun._ **_Not Jun!_ **

 

There’s a dusty, broken off branch on the ground, and you heave it up in your hands. Fear blinds you, makes you reckless. You bring it up over your head, and take a hard swing at the arm holding Jun captive.

_Thwack!_

You’re airborne for a second, your body weightless, before you wince at the loud ringing in your head, a bitter taste of rust in your mouth. Blood? Wait, you’re...you’re lying on the floor, what? When did that happen?

 

That monster must have caught your branch before it connected, and flung both you and your weapon over his shoulder, into the nearest wall. Dizzy and delirious with desperation, you stumble to your feet, your eyes searching wildly again for a mop of fluffy white hair, ears straining for his voice.

You prop yourself up with the thick branch, readying yourself. The monster hasn’t moved at all, and your vision is annoyingly making doubles of everything. The bitter something is welling up in your mouth, and you spit it out irritably, even though that action makes your head swim more.

“HUMAN! STOP THIS!” The voice is sharp and nasally, faraway, but it helps you focus on your target.

_Get Jun! He’s hurting Jun!_

You grit your teeth, and swing blindly with all your might. The splinters in the branch are digging into your palm, but you couldn’t care less.

 

“Let him go!” You swing hard, and this time it connects, the wood cracking against hard metal. The side of your head stings painfully at your effort, and something warm and wet coats the side of your face, oozing down your cheek. Your vision is fading in and out by now, your body running on pure adrenaline. The monster is not relinquishing his hold.

“Let. _Go!”_ you shriek, raising your half broken branch for another attack, the thought of Jun’s blood egging you on, but something crashes into your back. It feels like getting hit by a car. Every single nerve, every patch of your body flares with pain, with agony, and your legs buckle.

Like a flame in the wind, the pain is suddenly snuffed out, filled with nothing. You can’t feel anything at all. Jun’s scream lingers in your consciousness, like patches of a bad dream.

 

The darkness claims you before your head even hits the ground.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a tumblr now! it's mainly just my inspiration board for this fic, but y'know.  
> greytrashcan.tumblr
> 
> come say hi? (~‾⌣‾)~  
> comments/feedback are greatly appreciated!! thanks for reading, pal! ╰(°ㅂ°)╯


	10. the color of forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, it's already the tenth chapter! Σ（・□・　）  
> and to celebrate: some amazing [fanart](http://serabourg.tumblr.com/post/141497498261/how-do-i-even-tag-people-greytrashcan) from the wonderfully talented serabourg! ★★ i love your art style! thank you so much!! ヽ(；▽；)ノ  
> warning: long chapter ahead!

Yuena stormed into her office, red coat fluttering behind her as she made her way down the hall. What remained of her men followed her closely, the rest of the staff clearing quickly out of her path at the stormy atmosphere she radiated.

She slammed the double doors of her office in their faces when they tried to follow. It definitely made contact with something (she hears a crack) but she could hardly care about a broken nose or two. She needed the time alone to plan. To plot. To scream. Whichever came first.

Collapsing into the shiny, leather executive chair behind the desk, she pinches the bridge of her pert nose between her fingers, chipped manicure digging into her skin. This stupid, oversized Halloween decoration was giving her more trouble than she initially thought. His magic didn’t register on her device, not at all. She was sure that it was working. She even tested it herself after he disappeared. The dust clinging to the edges of her coat confirmed that it was doing its job.

_Then why?_

The device simply spiked high, beeping like hell when that...black hole opened beneath them, and then it ceased its noise and function altogether.

 

Unless...unless that monster’s magical energy was too high to even be recorded. She shudders at the thought, and shakes her head hard, like she could shrug off the distressing theory.

This is _why_ monsters needed to be controlled in the first place; there seemed to be no boundaries to what their magic could do. There are so many different monsters, much too many for humankind to not feel threatened.

_Alright, it’s easy Yuena, think._ She just needs to reformulate her plan, catch that irritating monster off-guard, and hang his grinning skull on a spike as a warning to other potential troublemakers. High energy levels or not, bullets and blades will still cut through bone and marrow. After that, everything should go as expected.

Right?

 

_“Brrrrrrring!”_ The annoying, shrill bleat of the old-school telephone makes her headache flare back to life. She snatched it off the receiver, trying to ease the snarl off her lips. 

“Yuena speaking.”

“Miss Yuena!” A deep, booming voice forced her to hold the receiver a distance away, scowling. “How goes the Ebott business?”

“Decent,” she spits.  

“I heard there was a little _trouble_ in the city square…” She doesn’t like the sound of the mayor’s amused tone, mocking her reliability. Unsure of her power. She had **enough** of people doubting her today.

“If you’re so worried about things, perhaps you should take a trip downtown and check it out yourself,” she croons into the receiver, dangling her legs over the armrest idly. She can hear him faltering on the other hand, _and oh,_ how her confidence feeds off someone else’s fear and uncertainty. “If you don’t have anything more important to say, besides that, _hm,_ our funding’s getting a little low again, then-”

“Low?” The mayor splutters. “We just sent you a cheque-”

“It’s low,” she interrupts smoothly, winding the cord over her fingers. “We’re doing the dirty work, **sir,** don’t you forget. I didn’t get my hands all _dusty_ for you to withhold funds from me.”

 

There’s a low, awkward cough from the other side, and a sound of agreement. Yuena smiles, a genuine smirk for the first time in the entire day, and lets the receiver clatter back onto the telephone without so much as a goodbye. She’ll decide when the conversation ends, just like she decides the fate of every single being foolish enough to cross her.

Feeling slightly more renewed, Yuena glides her chair closer to the table, running a finger lovingly over the metal photo frame, propped up next to her battered pencil holder. The child from the photo grins back at her, baring tiny white teeth in an attempt to give the biggest, brightest smile. Small hands clutch a soccer ball tightly. It makes her heart sting to look at it, but it also fills her with cold, hard determination.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she coos, the gentleness in her voice hoarse and unfamiliar after years of unuse. “Mommy’s gonna make sure those disgusting monsters get _exactly_ what they deserve." 

 

__________________________________________

 

You open your eyes to the sound of whispering.

The room is dim, the only source of light coming from the crack in the door. Someone is whispering outside, harsh and angry, but you can’t figure out who the voices belong to.

_You’ve got to stop waking up like this,_ you muse, sighing as you feel the bed beneath you. This is definitely not your mattress, it feels way too soft. You shift, trying to get up, and-

Oh. _Bad, bad idea._

The pain flares to life, bathing your body in fire. Your throat cracks with a cry of pain, and the door swings open immediately, creaking sharply. A large figure blocks the door, and the light disappears for a moment.

 

“hey.” Sans’ familiar, low voice rumbles through the quiet room as he makes his way over to the bed. He kneels, the sound of fabric rustling as he moves. You turn your head, and you can faintly make out the details of his expression, half shadowed by the bright light outside. His brow bones are furrowed in worry but that silly wide grin is still plastered on.

His eyes soften as you turn to face him, feeling woozy the moment you move. Cool fingers ghost over your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face. His voice is raspy, like he’s been shouting. “how ya feeling, babydoll?”

You want to lie, it’s almost an instinct to say ‘I’m fine’, but his presence soothes you in a way you’ve never known, makes you feel safe and whole and okay to admit anything you want to. You don’t think you can tell him you’re fine, especially not with the amount of pain you’re in.

 

“Hurts,” you croak, and he shifts closer, looking even more worried than before.

“c’mere.” His cool, bony fingertips are like ice against your burning skin, and you can’t help the whimper that makes it past your lips even when he lifts you carefully, slowly. There’s a low squeaking as he sits on the bed, and you find yourself leaning against him, tucked carefully against his chest.

“Sans…?” Pained, half-conscious confusion laces your voice, but he only shushes you, arms wrapping around your limp body securely. You’re too out of it to care that you’re on his lap, being held warmly.

You blink as the room starts to glow. No, wait, you’re glowing, you’re the one bathed in the pulsing, baby blue light. You hold up your hand wonderingly, watching the glow make a faint trail in the darkness. A soothing, cool sensation, like the first breath of autumn on a hot summer day, caresses your skin and extinguishes the burning pain, leaving behind sore bones and sore muscles.

You sag into him, relieved.

 

He props his chin on the top of your head, holding you close as his magic hums all around you, brushing curiously, wonderingly, against your hair, soaking into your skin. You sigh deeply, feeling safe and sleepy against him, your eyelids growing heavier and heavier. You didn’t know magic could be used for healing, too. That was convenient. If only you could use magic like that, then life would be so much easier, like the time Jun was ill and wrecked with feverish pain…

Jun.

_Jun._

 

You jolt in Sans’ arms, and you can feel him tense up, alert. He lifts his chin off your head and butts his forehead against yours instead.

“what’s wrong?”

“J-Jun!” You try to disentangle yourself from him, but he holds you firm. “I-I need to find him..!”

“kid’s safe.” Sans sounds distant, disgruntled, and dread sits heavily in your stomach. Was he lying to keep you calm? He didn’t sound very convincing. “in the other room. if ya don’t stop moving, you’re gonna get yerself all hurt again.”

“I just want to see him.” You look up at him imploringly. “Please, I think he was hurt, t-the monster holding him had blood all over his weapon, and he was screaming-”

“i said he’s **fine.** ” Sans’ eyes are hollow, and his grin is frozen. You pause at his harsh tone, and sweat beads on his skull as you continue to stare, uncomprehending. Is he trying to scare you into submission again? You know all too well how that worked out.

He must know it too, because he shifts uncomfortably.

 

“you just...can’t move right now, okay? ya gotta wait for the magic to settle. tori will get all mad if ya interfere with the process.”

“Who’s...Tori?”

“she’s the one that healed ya. we’re not all that proficient at medicinal magic.” Oh. So that’s what it was. So Sans is probably not doing much healing, but he’s just taking the pain away.

“Did she heal Jun, too?”

“wha? uh, nah, the kid barely had a few scratches on him from the struggle.” Sans’ voice seems disconnected, his thoughts faraway, but his fingers rub soothing circles against the small of your back. “just freaked out, i guess. the guy you went bonkers on was my brother, papyrus. he was just tryna get the kid outta the way, he said. the, uh, blood on him, wasn’t the kid’s.”

“Shit!” Your cover your mouth, eyes wide as you the memories crash back in full force, and you’re horrified. You straight on head-barreled into another monster! And not just any monster, but Sans’ brother. His thoughtful, kind brother, trying to get a little human out of the war zone. “I-I didn’t know! I just…I thought…!”

“yeah. it doesn’t matter.” Sans is avoiding your gaze, looking like he’s bracing himself for this conversation. “i mean, we’re monsters, it was a havoc, kid was yellin’ his head off, so. i can understand where ya came from.”

 

You flush, shaking your head furiously. “I-I wasn’t thinking about it like that!” You bow your head guiltily. “I just, I thought Jun…” You run your hand through your hair self-consciously. Trying to explain it was just going to make it worse, because Sans was...partially correct. “I have to apologise to your brother, Pa...ah, Pa-pie…?”

“papyrus.” Sans’ voice is his usual lazy baritone, but his eyes are alight, surprised and hopeful. “it’s cool, it was just a big misunderstanding. paps isn’t hurt at all.”

“Still.” You shake your head. “I don’t want him to think I meant to hurt him.” You relax back into Sans’ arms, laying your head on his shoulder trustingly, and he can’t help but give a low, rumbling purr that resonates through your whole body. Like a giant kitty-cat. You stifle a giggle into your hand.

“somethin’ funny?” You press your palm harder against your lips, but it only results in a snort. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, he gives you a grumpy look, but the lights in his eyes are bright, happy.

“Nope,” you lie cheerfully, sinking back into him. His bones are a firm, solid pressure against your back, cushioned by his thick sweater. “Nothing at all.”

“lies,” he says, but he can’t hide the wide, cheesy grin spreading across his face. “you’re havin’ a laugh at me, aren’t ya? even after ya nearly scared the soul outta me with that shtick.” His arms are holding you loosely, his cheek brushing against yours. How is it that you’re so comfortable around him only after a couple of days? Something inside you resonates and glows whenever he’s near, whenever he opens up to you like this, all soft and vulnerable and kind. It makes you want to reach out, perhaps steal some of the warmth and peace he radiates sometimes. It softens the hard edges of his grin, gentles his gaze, and it makes your stomach flop with something unknown.

 

He sighs, and his magic swirls for a moment, disrupted by his exhalation. The air is cosy and lazy and comforting, and you have no complaints as he dips his head lower, pressing his forehead to yours. Your fingers brush against his wide jaw, trailing down to his chin, and he shuts his eyes completely, his look of serenity backlit by the soft blue glow of magic.

Perhaps it’s true, after all, that monsters are made of love, and it is only their exterior that looks menacing. Perhaps it’s why they’re so big, to hold all the love they had inside.

Your fingers explore tentatively, drawing a tiny heart on his cheek, and then flushing up to your ears at whatever the hell you were doing. He doesn’t seem to notice, content to nuzzle against you lazily as you trace patterns into smooth ivory bone.

 

“Excuse me, _oh!”_

You jerk away at the intrusion, but Sans’ grip tightens around you, though he never lifts his face from your neck. You can feel the embarrassment burning as the...uh, goat monster? The goat monster is staring at you with wide eyes, her paw over her mouth. She surveys the position you’re in for a second, and her lovely brown eyes narrow.

_She’s pretty tall,_ you notice distantly, when she lowers her head a little so her horns don’t knock against the door frame. You kind of shrink back as she steps closer, looking both annoyed and menacing.

“Sans!” Her voice reminds you, somewhat, of a practical, television-type schoolteacher who’s caught a misbehaving child. “You were supposed to let her rest!” He grumbles into your neck, and the goat monster shakes her head, floppy ears brushing against her shoulders.

You can’t stop staring.

 

She directs her attention towards you now, her eyes softening to a shade of warm, melted caramel. Could a goat look _beautiful?_ What-

“Pardon my intrusion.” Her _voice_ is like melted caramel too, the loving mother straight out of a storybook. “You must be so tired, healing often saps so much energy. May I?” You realise she’s knelt to your height, holding out her...paw? Hand? Even though she’s asking ever so politely, you feel compelled to fulfil her request immediately.

You press your hand into her palm, and she places her other paw right over yours. Something warm gushes through you from the contact, like chugging a large hot chocolate on a snowy day. The pleasant warmth chases away the lingering cool of Sans’ magic, and it wakes him up begrudgingly.

 

“Well, you are healing nicely, thank goodness.” She peers at your chest like she can see your injuries healing through your shirt, and gives you a reassuring smile. “No permanent damage, there.”

“if undyne had hit any harder…” Sans mutters to himself, rubbing his eyes. Toriel’s soft eyes hardened to steel immediately, and you are entranced by how she how swiftly she changes, while looking as regal and beautiful as ever. That...must be magic too.  

“This was an accident, Sans. And you know it.” She stands rapidly, and you feel a sense of loss as her soft hands drop yours into your lap. “If you’re feeling up to it, child, I’ve made you a pie!” She claps her hands together, beaming. “It’ll help with the healing, to put some food in you.”

“T-Thank you very much, ma’am,” you stutter, trying to stand with her. She barely knew you, and she made food for you? Was this the reincarnation of Mother Teresa herself?

 

Your knees buckle a little embarrassingly, and Sans is up in an instant, hand steady on your waist. You catch the knowing glance she casts in your direction, and your face heats up instantly. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anymore, and turns to leave the room.

“you ‘kay on yer own?” You nod, palms against your cheeks to cool the flush, and squint at the bright lights outside as you step out of the room cautiously.

 

This must be Grillby’s apartment above his bar. There’s an old _‘Grillby’s’_ neon sign next to the polished mini bar in the kitchen, and a large oak table covered in a lovely red tablecloth. The tiles are gleaming black and white marble, and you’re almost too scared to step on them in your bare feet, in case you leave a mark. Everything has a jazzy 50s vibe to it. There’s even a pretty, rusty red juke box in the corner. 

But the best thing in the kitchen is the absolutely enormous pie sitting on the red tablecloth. A good quarter is already gone, showing the golden brown filling. It’s so fresh that it’s actually emitting steam. Sans must have learnt how to make pie from her.

“don’t drool too hard, doll.”

 

Your face burns again as the goat monster chuckles demurely behind her paw, but she looks pleased at your reaction. As she sets about carving a big slice for you, your attention drifts to the connected room, where an old, boxy television is blaring with an old animated movie. Two small heads are staring at it, ignoring the couch behind them altogether, half-empty plates with pie crumbs set to the side.

“Jun?” Your voice is soft, but Jun still shifts and turns towards the sound of you. The person next to him turns too, and two small faces peer up at you. The other is also a...human child? They stand in contrast next to Jun, all tousled, dark brown hair and bronzed skin, peppered with faint freckles. The child’s eyes are narrow, small, making them look listless and bored until the broad, toothy smile lights up their face.

You wave back shyly, and they give you a thumbs up. They turn to whisper something into Jun’s ear, and surprisingly, Jun nods at you but doesn’t run over to you like he usually does, clingy and begging for hugs. They turn their attention back to the television screen.

You feel a pang of emptiness. Was it about the way you shouted at him on the roof, the things you said? Did you fuck up really bad this time?  

 

“My child.” The goat monster slides the slice of pie over to you, looking concerned. Oh, the hurt must have shown up on your face. You give her a big smile, waving her concern away. The slice of pie is much too generous, and it looks delicious.

But you find you don’t really have much of an appetite anymore.

“Thank you, uh, ma’am.” You sit down gingerly on the chair, eyeing the pie. It’s taller than the height of your palm, you’re sure.

“Oh! My goodness.” She looks a little abashed, and holds her paw out to you again. Feeling confused, you put your hand over hers, thinking she wants to do something with her magic. Instead, she gives you a funny little handshake.

“I forgot to introduce myself, after all this! Apologies. My name is Toriel.” Her grip is warm and gentle, and you find yourself melting in her sweet brown eyes. You just about manage to stutter out your name, and her eyes widen with such wonder that you feel yourself starting to blush again.

“Forgive me, it’s just been a while since we’ve met another human. Your names are...peculiar to the tongue.” You give an understanding shrug, and gesture to the child next to Jun.

“Is...is that human child with you?” Toriel’s eyes shift to the television room, and her hands immediately settle themselves on her hips.

“Frisk, my darling, not so near the screen!” She shakes her head as... _Frisk..._ obligingly drags their butt back to the couch, but not before blowing a raspberry. Jun follows. It’s strange, to see Jun interact with someone around their age. He seems to trust Frisk, for some reason. You sigh. Perhaps he really needed to interact with someone who was...not you.

 

“Frisk is an odd name,” you admit, and Toriel laughs.

“Well, Frisk is the name he gave us, so Frisk it is!” She takes a seat next to you, but her size is comforting and protective instead of overpowering. “He is the child ambassador of us monsters.”

“Oh!” The child used to look much younger back when his face was on the screen of every television, when monsters first tried to integrate. You hadn’t been able to afford a television since then, and you pretty much lost track of the latest news, except what you could scrounge from old newspapers. “It has been a long time. He’s so big now!”

“It has,” Toriel agrees, and there’s a grim edge to her tone. Oh. It’s been a long time, and they’re still...still at square one…

 

“Um, Jun seems to have warmed up to him pretty quickly. He’s always iffy around strangers.” You change the topic quickly, not wanting the atmosphere to sour.

“Oh yes, that’s a special trait of our Frisk!” She looks fond as she gazes over them. “He makes friends with whoever he meets! Ah, I should tell him to introduce himself properly. Frisk, would you please come here and greet our guest?”

Frisk’s head pops up again, and he gets up amiably, trotting over to the dining table. His smile is friendly, open, and you can’t help but warm up to him already. You hold out your hand to shake his, but he turns your hand over and brushes a light kiss on your knuckles.

“Nice to meet you,” he chirps, and... _is that a wink?_

“U-Uh, nice to meet you too, Frisk.” His smile widens, and he skirts around you to plant a kiss on Toriel’s cheek. She laughs a little at your expression, trying to tame his messy brown hair as he presses himself to her side. 

 

“Frisk is a bit of a flirt sometimes,” she explains apologetically, but Frisk doesn’t look apologetic in the least. She gives Frisk a mock-stern look, shaking her finger at him. “You might want to stay away from this one, my darling. Or you’ll find yourself in trouble. I can feel it in my _bones._ ”

“Oh?” Frisk looks intrigued now, and your skin feels like it’s going to melt off your face. Sans is nowhere to be seen, thank god, he probably left once you settled down with your pie. But then again, you had to suffer through this embarrassment alone. Frisk gives you a once-over, and grins.

“Papy? She get roped into a date again?”

“Nope, not that one,” Toriel sings cheerfully, and Frisk’s smug grin is replaced with an incredulous look. He glances around swiftly, leans close, and whispers,

_“Sans?”_

“sup.”

Frisk and you shriek in unison, scooting back as he appears right beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets. He glances between the two of you, and lifts a brow bone at Toriel, who's biting her tongue from trying not to laugh.

 

“wha’d i miss.” He pulls out a chair next to you, and you can feel your skin burning on the side where he’s leaning close, but not close enough to touch.

“You’re missing plenty at your work, I imagine!” Toriel admonishes Sans, but the smile hasn’t faded from her face. “Doesn’t your shift last for another hour at least?”

“eh, nothing’s happenin’. paps won’t miss a thing.”

“SANS!”

“well, speak of the devil. he’s catchin’ on quicker these days.”

There’s an angry, nasally high voice coming from the front door, and you wince, but nobody seems too concerned. Sans just shrugs as the door flies open, and a skeleton monster, enormously tall, lowers his head and tilts to the side so that his broad shoulders can enter the apartment.

 

“sup, paps,” Sans drawls lazily from behind you, and you stiffen. Paps? Then this must be the brother you’d attacked mistakenly! He stomps over to the dining table, scowling, the lights in his eye sockets bright and intimidating. You gulp. How did you ever have the blind guts to take a swing at this guy? The protective plastic-metal vest that he’s wearing beneath his coat makes him look even more menacing. You must have barely scuffed it.

“DON’T _‘SUP’_ ME, BROTHER! YOU’RE SLACKING OFF AGAIN, AREN’T YOU?!”

“ya caught me.” Sans waves his palms in front of him in a form of mock-surrender, and it only seems to incite Papyrus more. But his gaze shifts from Sans to you, and you can feel your heart stop beating for a second.

“OH.”

“Uh.”

You stand up so quickly that your chair almost falls over, hands clasped anxiously together in front of your chest.

 

“P-Papyrus, right?” He seems to regain his composure after that, straightening up and puffing his chest out.

“THAT IS CORRECT, HUMAN! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM PLEASED TO SEE YOU ARE UP AND WELL!” Even though his pose is confident, his expression is awkward, a little unsure of what to say.

“Uh, yes, thank you. Um, I just, I just wanted to...apologise, Papyrus.” You can feel Sans shifting behind you, and you square your shoulders a little more. “I-I didn’t mean to attack you, I just thought…” You shake your head. Explanations might only make things worse. What, you attacked him because he was a monster with a human in his grip, and the first thought that popped into your head was that he had no good intentions? “I’m sorry for hurting you, and thinking badly of you when you were only helping.”

“DO NOT WORRY ABOUT THAT!!” You jump as two red-gloved hands land heavily on your shoulders. “YOU WERE FAR TOO WEAK TO HURT ME PROPERLY, AS EXPECTED FROM A SMALL HUMAN LIKE YOURSELF! SO, DO NOT GRIEVE, HUMAN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS NOT SO EASILY DEFEATED, AND SANS HAS ALREADY EXPLAINED YOUR PREDICAMENT!” He smiles, a wide toothy smile, and the menacing air from before completely vanishes. He just looks like a sweet, eager-to-please giant, ready to forgive and forget.

It makes you feel worse, somehow.

 

“TO SHOW THAT WE’VE LET THIS PASS, I SHALL EXTEND THE GENEROUS GIFT OF MY FRIENDSHIP TO YOU, SMALL HUMAN!” You stare up at him, mouth open, but he continues to hold his hand out valiantly, even though his bright smile looks a little more strained the longer you gape at him.

“You want to be friends...with me?” You don’t understand. “B-But I’m human!”

“OH.” He transitions from sweet giant to kicked puppy, and it makes you want to stuff your foot into your mouth. “I UNDERSTAND! IT CAN BE VERY INTIMIDATING TO BE FRIENDS WITH ONE AS GREAT AS I!”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant!” He deflates even more, and you panic, reaching out to clasp his withdrawing hand. “I’d love to be friends!” His face lights up immediately, and you can hear Sans breathe a quiet sigh of relief behind you. “I just thought...you wouldn’t want to be friends with a human like me. Especially after what I did to you, uh…”

“NONSENSE. THE GREAT PAPYRUS EXCELS AT ALL THINGS, INCLUDING FORGIVENESS!” He gives your hand a jostling shake, well, more like your entire arm, but it’s worth it for the beam he’s giving you. _“WOWIE! THIS IS MY SECOND HUMAN FRIEND!”_ He’s whispering loudly to Frisk, who gives him a thumbs up. _“I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO GLAD TO BE ATTACKED IN MY LIFE!”_

Sans snorts behind you, and you hold back the urge to kick him.

 

“I’m glad everything turned out so well, Papyrus.” Toriel pats his shoulder kindly, and gestures to Sans. “But I think the city patrol still needs their best guard.”

“OH YES, OF COURSE!” He points at finger at Sans, narrowing his eye sockets. “YOU’RE COMING WITH ME, LAZYBONES!”

Somehow, Papyrus manages to drag Sans out the door, and you stare as Sans sits on the floor, too lazy to even stand, butt dragging along the ground as Papyrus pulls him along by the collar like a sack of potatoes.

“seeya, doll.” He gives you a mock-salute, eyes half-lidded and sleepy. Toriel shakes her head at them, and moves to shut the door.

“You haven’t touched your pie,” Frisk observes, chin resting on his palms.

“I’m just not very hungry,” you whisper apologetically. The apartment seems much quieter now that Papyrus is gone. Your gaze darts back to Jun, who’s still sitting in front of the television. “I think I just need a moment alone with Jun.”

“Sure.” Frisk nods. “He’s been missing you since he got up.”

 

That sounds at least a little more reassuring. You slowly make your way over to the television room, and settle yourself next to Jun. He looks fine, mostly. Just a few scratches here and there on his pale skin, and his dark eye circles look a little darker.  
  
“Hey,” you say. He looks like he’s struggling to say something himself, his fluffy head dipping lower and lower like he’s  trying to hide. You recognize what his behaviour; it’s his guilty face. Gently, you run your fingers through his hair, brushing it back. 

It takes him a while before he presses his head back into your touch, and you slide your hand down to his soft cheek, your chest squeezing painfully as you trace the faint scratch marks. You really were kinda shit at this ‘keeping your family safe’ job, huh?

“I really messed up.” Jun’s lost voice breaks your moment of self-loathing, and you furrow your brows, pulling his small body in for a hug. He breaks against your shoulder, small fingers scrabbling at your shirt as he clings on tightly. “I didn’t think she would really shoot you. She promised she wouldn’t hurt us. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you would never,” you assure him, and he grips you tighter, almost climbing onto your lap. “But why did you agree to her plan? She wanted to hurt monsters!”

 

There’s a long silence, and Jun mumbles into your shirt, almost too soft to hear. “Wanted to feel safe again.”

You feel your heart still, and sink heavily to the pit of your stomach. “You don’t feel safe...with me?”

“Don’t feel safe with everyone trying to hurt us.”

You rub his back in gentle circles, feeling troubled. Was that how Jun really felt? Them against the world? 

“But these monsters saved our lives, Jun. They took us in, and cared for us. Not everyone is out to get us.” Jun remains silent, doubtful, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. You give a sigh. It’s hard for him to relax around strangers, when he’s never really known the outside world, all cooped up for the most of his young life in your ratty apartment, with only books for company. And the only people he’s interacted with, both monster and human, hadn’t exactly made the best impression.

You hadn’t made him feel safe, hadn’t made him feel like you were in control. And he lashed out.

 

“Jun, I’m sorry, too.”

“What?” He lifts his tired little head from your shoulder. “Why?”

“I messed up too, buddy.” You give his head a little tousle, and he wrinkles his nose. “I didn’t keep us safe, either.” He opens his mouth to retort, but you shake your head, effectively shushing him.

“Humans are just like monsters, Jun. There are kind humans and aggressive humans, and there are kind monsters and aggressive monsters. I know you don’t like Sans.” He gives an uncomfortable little shift. “And for a good reason. But we can’t just look at one monster and judge every single monster the same way. We don’t look at one terrible human and think all humans are terrible.”

Jun contemplates it, blank eyes staring at nothing. “What if they turn out to be someone terrible?”

 

Is he talking about Yuena? You smile sympathetically, and press a soft kiss to the top of his fluffy head. “We’ll decide what to do when that happens. It’s better than being afraid of everybody all the time. ‘Sides, I still have you, don’t I?”

Jun gives a sullen pout, but you chase it away with a tiny peck on his nose. He scrubs it violently with the back of his hand, but you catch the smile on his face.

“But! Good or bad, we can’t let them separate us like Yuena did. Okay?” He blinks up at you, absent gaze soft and adoring, and for a moment, you wonder if he could really see you.

“Okay.”

_____________________________________________

 

“NO, IT’S NOT OKAY!”

“i’m tellin’ ya, paps, they go away on their own. it’s fine.”

“FINE?!” Papyrus glares at him, but the hands on his hips kinda diminish the otherwise very scary look. His big coat and bright scarf fluttering behind him gives him a more...heroic look. “I’M TELLING YOU, SANS, IT ISN’T OKAY TO BE LAZY AND LEAVE YOUR PORTALS OPEN WHEN YOU EXIT THEM!”

“they disappear within seconds, paps. by themselves.”

“WELL.” Papyrus frowns down at him, pointing down an open alleyway. They’re in the suburban part of Ebott, surrounded by nice, pretty houses. Or what remained of them. “EITHER YOU KEEP COMING HERE AND FORGETTING, OR THIS PORTAL ISN’T CLOSING AT ALL!”

Sans scoffs, glancing around. He doesn’t frequent this place. Maybe he did kinda forget when he was doing the regular patrol. But still, the void portals shouldn’t be open this long…

Woah, **what?**

 

Between two squat, abandoned office buildings, almost hidden behind a dented trash dumper (jeez, nothing escapes the eye of the great Papyrus, huh), there is a glint of darkness sliced open on the whitewashed brick wall. It’s a haphazard job, the edges of the portal jagged and glitching, the magic unsteady. Sans brushes his fingers slightly beyond it, and the familiar pull of the void tugs at his fingers.

So, this is definitely the type of portal he uses.

“SO? WHAT DID I SAY?! WAS I RIGHT OR WAS I WRONG?” Papyrus’ smug voice cuts in from behind him.

“yer both.”

“WHAT?” His eyes narrow. “HOW CAN I BE BOTH?!”

“oh, it’s a portal alright,” Sans chuckles, but without a hint of humor. Papyrus catches onto Sans’ grim tone, taking a step back. The brothers stare into a slice of an endless void.

 

**“but it ain’t mine.”**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is my [tumblr.](http://greytrashcan.tumblr.com/) come say hi! (´∀`)


	11. the color of remembrance

You met Grillby on the last day of winter, and the first anniversary of the war.

The winter wasn’t as bad back then as it is now, the city skies still blue, the air still clear. It wasn’t as cold, too, because the sunlight still managed to reach Ebott without all the haze and fog. There were trash and rubble from vandalisation piling up, but if you squinted, it still looked like a decent city.

But it snowed three inches that day, and you were sure your nose was going to drop off if the temperature dipped any lower. It was almost a year after the big evacuation, and the empty house your parents left behind could no longer sustain you.

You were running on the last can of baked beans (ugh, you never wanted to see another baked bean in your life) and just half a bottle of water (they cut off the water and electricity a week after everything went to shit). There was nothing left to salvage from the empty grocery stores. Everything else had been taken over the year.

 

“Hi, Mrs. Lola,” you whispered as you passed by your neighbour’s, your breath forming tiny white puffs. You used to love making those little breath clouds, and pretend you were a dragon. Now it just reminded you of how scarily cold it was.

Mrs. Lola always sat at her window, a senile old woman waiting earnestly for her family. You used to sit with her and discuss when they’d come back, and worry about what happened to them. It’s all she would ever talk about, her family, but it was better than talking to no one at all. And it was nice, to share the loot you stole from the abandoned marts. She’d chide you sometimes, but then forget about what you said in a minute because she forgets everything immediately.

Everything about you, anyway. You can’t recall the number of times you’ve re-introduced yourself to her.

She hadn’t been at the window for a few days, and you were far too cowardly to check.

The only reason you’ve gone out of your house at all, besides to occasionally forage for resources, was because of the goddamned winter. Summer and autumn were fine as it is, but with what you had, you couldn’t survive another day of winter. The fact that you made it here at all was a testament to your determination.

Or...was that procrastination?

So you trudged on, your best pair of boots steadily crunching through the thickening snow. The human mart was a horrible place to work. You were always getting robbed, getting groped by your co-worker, being on the other end of knives and guns. So you quit. Hey, don’t judge. Determination could only go so far. The pay wasn’t that good, either.

 

But the fact was, there weren’t many places for humans to work. Besides the human-monster market (that was rumoured to sell human organs to make magic) and that stupid human mart, every other establishment was run by monsters. Not that you had anything against monsters, but with the war raging on, still young and blazing, walking into one of those places and asking for a job is probably like asking to be murdered.

You slumped next to a big dumpster, your legs aching and numb with cold. Your whole body was numb with cold. You couldn’t feel your face anymore, despite the large scarf you wound around your face. It must be near midnight, the sky had never seemed darker or more desolate.

It feels lonely.

Distantly, you could hear a door squeaking open, but you’re far too tired to care. The sleepiness catches onto you as you’ve stopped moving, your heart slowing. You know what’s happening, but somehow, after a day of _nothing, nothing, nothing,_ death doesn’t seem too bad. The can of beans in your house is frozen over anyway. Everything is frozen over, numb and distant, and...no one would really blame you if you just gave up for a while, right?

 

 _Wow,_ that’s warm.

Something blazes brightly beyond your shut eyes, dyeing the darkness red. It burns pleasantly against your icy cheeks. Blearily, you force yourself to look.

There’s a man on fire.

Squeaking, you jerk backwards, but your head collides painfully with the wall behind you. The stranger doesn’t seem to care that he’s on fire, his head tilting as he watches you.

“Uh, I, you...are you okay?!” Your dry lips crack painfully as you try to speak, but this situation is too bizarre for you to worry about the pain. You take off your scarf and bat at him, your frozen limbs making your actions slow and clumsy. “You...you’re on fire! Please, um…!” He avoids you swiftly, looking a little perplexed, and you bat at him again. “Just stay still and let me put it out, and it’ll hurt less!”

He catches your scarf eventually, and tugs it from your hands.

Strangely, his neat, dapper clothes (is he a waiter?) aren’t catching on fire at all. Rather, he seems to be made of flames instead of...being caught in them. He’s observing you as closely as you are him, and there’s a moment of mutual silence.

Oh, this must be a monster.

 

Your thoughts break when he winds the scarf loosely back around your neck, and sighs. His sigh is a puff of steam, greedily swallowed up by the cold air. The flames dancing around his head flicker for a moment as he considers you, and you gulp. This monster is much, much taller than any human man you’ve known, and you must seem so pathetic, trying to ‘put him out’. You only hope he doesn’t think you’re trying to smother him to death.

He leans in so close you’re sure your hair would catch on fire, but instead he nudges you to the side.

Oh. You had collapsed on top of a sack of something lumpy. Potatoes? He drags the sack away, and back into a little door opposite you that you couldn’t believe you missed. The door is ajar, leaking the warm, golden light from within, and there’s a faint bustle of chatter.

 

It’s gone when the monster shuts the door, and you can’t help but feel the coldness a little more acutely.

Well, at least he didn’t kill you for sitting on his sack. Sack _of potatoes._ Ugh, no, you didn’t mean to make it sound like that.

Wrapping your scarf more securely around you, the presence of the monster reminds you that you’ve wandered quite a bit too far into their territory. Dread prickles on the back of your neck as you survey the area around you. Being alive isn’t looking well for you, after all.

Something rustles at the end of the alleyway, where the faint lamplight doesn’t reach. But home is that way, and you gulp, turning to survey the opposite direction.

It looks just as ominous.

 

Just as you’re about to leave, a heavy hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you muffle your shriek into your scarf. The fiery man, uh, monster is back, and even when you’re standing, he towers over you by quite a few heads. You barely reach his chest.

Something hot and greasy is shoved into your hands, and the smell of food hits you like a truck. Your mouth waters immediately, but your gaze flickers between him and the paper bag questioningly.

_“Can you cook?”_

You didn’t expect him to speak at all. He doesn’t even seem to have a mouth! But then again, this is probably the first monster you’ve ever interacted with, so…you’re no monster expert. His voice is not unpleasant. It’s soft, muted, and crackles at the end, like burning wood.

 

_“Can you make something like this? Other...food?”_

 Oh right, you haven’t answered. Though your mouth was open, you couldn’t seem to find the right words. Instead, you nodded, still clutching the bag. Well, you _can_ cook as soon as you get your hands on the right resources. Even a Michelin chef might find it hard to make something out of just baked beans.

 _“How...many years?”_ Is he asking how old you were?

“Sixteen.” You were fourteen, actually, fifteen in a couple of months to be exact.. But he didn’t seem to care, only waving your words away.

_“Will you work for me?”_

“What?”

He’s starting to look a little impatient now. _“Will you work? I need a cook.”_

Oh. Oh my god. Was he asking...was he giving you a **_job…?_ ** But why? You’re human! And he’s well, and you… Okay, okay. You’re not going to ruin things by asking and push your luck here.

“I-Is this my payment?” You hold up the paper bag shyly, and your stomach chooses that moment to give an embarrassingly loud gurgle. He stares at you for a moment, amber eyes widening, before he breaks into what sounds like a low chuckle.

 _“No.”_ You deflate. _“That is a gift.”_ Really?! He laughs again, louder, at your starry-eyed look. _“I will pay your worth in gold. If you meet my standards.”_ Gold? Oh, that’s right, that’s what monsters used as currency, it said so on the news. It was also what kept the government’s interest in preserving them, people speculated.

 _“You will come tomorrow, before sun sets.”_ You nod solemnly, trying not to get distracted by the flaming finger waving in front of you. _“And you will come in only by this door. Not the main door.”_

He surveys you for a moment more, and you stiffen, hoping that he doesn’t find you too small or too useless and reconsider his action. But he holds open the small kitchen door, and you step in hesitantly.

The heat of the kitchen wraps around you like a fluffy cashmere blanket. Maybe better. The kitchen walls are warm, homey-looking bricks, and the tiled floor is so clean that it squeaks when you walk on it. Everything is immaculate, shiny and well-polished. It makes _you_ feel greasy.

The paper bag is full of fries, and something carefully wrapped up (a burger?), and while the monster shuts the door, you sneak a fry into your mouth.

 

It tastes like heaven. Like salty, crispy heaven.

There’s another crackling laugh, and the fire monster is looking at you in amusement. You’ve tried to discreetly stuff a few more in your mouth, but apparently it wasn’t discreet enough. Blushing, you offer him a fry, but he shakes his head, and pushes your hand back to your chest.

_“I was almost offended you didn’t eat immediately.”_

His flames flicker against your skin, a steady heat. It doesn’t...burn you at all. Weird.

He holds out his hand, and his amber eyes spark a little. _“Grillby.”_

It takes you a while to understand that he just said his name, and you swallow your mouthful of fries, introducing yourself shyly.

But as it turns out, you never called him Grillby. After five years of working for him, he's still always just... _boss._

____________________________________________________________

 

“Boss, you’re burning the pancakes!”

And back to the present. Grillby’s standing in his apartment’s kitchen, trying to flip the pancake in the pan like he’s seen humans do on television, but his failures only makes the pan heat up more.

“Boss, just, just let me, _please…”_ You try to take the pan from him, but he holds it high above your head, his other hand pressed against your forehead, holding you back. Ugh. You're almost twenty now, but you only grew a measly few inches over the years. 

Toriel hides her grin behind her newspaper, and Frisk mourns as the pancake start to burn. It was Grillby’s idea, after seeing the pie that Toriel bought, to make human food as a get-well present, of sorts.

The pan catches on fire entirely, and you give up, throwing your hands in the air. Grillby is undeterred, finally flipping the burnt charcoal pancake. It lands neatly on the plate, the edges crumbling to little black bits. Frisk glares at it, and reaches over to steal some of Jun’s fries, only to get his hand smacked.

Grillby looks so pleased with himself, you just couldn’t stay angry at him.

“why does it smell like something’s burnin’ in here?” Sans is shuffling into the apartment with a muttering Papyrus behind him. They both look more worn out than they were before they left, and you couldn’t help but get a little worried. Sans’ eyes drift to Grillby, and his grin widens genuinely.

“oh man, these jokes practically write themselves.”

“Welcome back. Grillby made pancakes for all of us!” Toriel smiles at them, setting aside her newspaper, but you can see the tinge of worry in her eyes, too. “Papyrus, um, that is, _Captain,_ might I have your report now?” Papyrus straightens up despite his weariness, all Captain-ish, and follows Toriel to another room.

“someone’s been takin’ secret lessons from undyne too, i see.” Sans pokes at the burnt lump with a bony finger, and Grillby huffs at him, offended, retreating to the dry kitchen to get a new mixture. You don’t understand what that means, but you get that it’s not a good thing. Smiling wryly at Sans, you hip-bump him gently. “Don’t be mean, Sans.”

“sorry.” That was a half-hearted apology if you’ve ever heard one, but that thought dissolves immediately when gloved hands circle your wrists, sliding down to cradle your small hands gently in his big ones. “feelin’ better?” His tone could almost pass off as casual, but the light in his eyes are soft, concerned.

Your cheeks flush despite yourself. “What, can’t you tell? Are you saying I look like crap?”

You meant it to be light-hearted banter, but Sans seems flustered, sweat beading slightly on his skull.

“y-you know that’s not what i meant, doll.” He draws you in closer, and bends to bump his forehead against yours gently, his eyes searching your expression so earnestly it’s endearing. You bite your lip, but the giggle breaks out of you before you can stop it, and he relaxes. “ya just havin’ a laugh at me again, aren’t cha?”

“I didn’t mean to.” Your fingers drift up to trace the hint of dark circles under his eye socket. It’s like a chafing, a bruise. Odd. He shuts his eyes contentedly as your fingers trace over it lightly. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“better now,” he rumbles, leaning his cheek into your palm with a lopsided grin. You can feel your entire face being set aflame, but you don’t have the heart to take your hand away when he smiles at you like that, especially when his dark eye circles make him look so weary and downtrodden.

“Eww!” Frisk pokes his tongue out. “Flirt somewhere else!” Jun stills, frowning down at his fries. Yikes. You hadn’t exactly told him about what you and Sans had, um, well… You reach out for him, but Frisk is already there, squeezing into his chair and mumbling something far too quiet for you to hear. Jun’s frown eases, and you find yourself immensely curious to whatever the hell Frisk was saying.

“hey, i don’t fuss ‘bout _your_ flirting, kid.”

“That’s cause my flirting is good. No one has any complaints.”

“oh yeah?” Sans lifts his head from your hand, and rests his chin lazily on the top of your head instead. “maybe they’re too kind to say much to ya,” he teases. Frisk’s smile grows wide, challenging, instead of looking insulted. God, he’s taking this as a challenge, isn’t he?

“I think they’re much too awed to say anything,” Frisk insists, sliding his hand over Jun’s small shoulders. “Isn’t that right?” He blows a kiss, and Jun swats at his ear.

“Why are you breathing on me?” he complains, and Frisk pouts. Sans gives a deep bellied chuckle, rumbling against you, and you find yourself leaning back into his warmth selfishly, soaking up whatever physical contact you could get.

“Don’t be like that,” Frisk purrs even as Jun steadfastly ignores him, stuffing his mouth. He traces a lone finger over Jun’s pale throat. “I know you like it when I’m near you, _Mister Huggy.”_ Jun chokes on his fries, and you bury your face into your palms, torn between laughter and horror.

“i didn’t teach him that,” Sans mumbles, looking sufficiently disturbed and regretful that he ever prompted Frisk into anything. Jun looks like a pink dandelion, blank eyes directed to his lap. “if tori asks, i don’t know anything.”

“And what would I be asking?”

 

Toriel surveys all of you with an amused look, but something seems to weigh heavily on her. Her brows are furrowed and her fur’s slightly ruffled, obvious hints besides her usual gentle smile. Papyrus is silent for once, solemn and serious like the Captain should be. But it is an strange look on him, somehow.

“I would like to speak with Jun and Sans, please.” Confused, you try to follow, but Toriel gives you and Frisk a regretful look. “In private.”

You shake your head, remembering your promise to Jun. _Never be separated._ Jun looks nervous, too, and you reach over to take his hand. “He’s family. Anywhere he goes, I go.”

Toriel gives you both an indiscernible look, but relents. “Alright.”

The room you’re shown to must be Grillby’s study, and you feel somewhat like a student being called to the principal’s office, especially when Toriel sits behind the desk. Jun sits close, but his grip on your hand is steady, not suffocating, and you’re relieved that he’s not feeling too scared. The atmosphere you’ve left behind in the kitchen feels quite distant, but Toriel makes you feel better when she gives you a small smile.

 

“I’m sorry for sounding so serious, my dears. But this matter is a solemn thing.” Her stern, brown eyes mean business. “Papyrus and Sans seem to have made a rather disturbing discovery on their rounds today. As you may or may not know, Sans has a better knowledge of voids than we do. A void is the passageway where one is able to travel between two locations in a very short amount of time.” Sans is relaxed on the couch next to you, but the lights in his eyes are mere pinpricks. Still, he holds your hand in his, his thumb carefully drawing soothing circles on your skin. “So far, Sans is the only monster who has managed to accomplish such a feat with ease. However.”

She straightens up, adjusting her square, metal frame glasses. “It has been brought to our attention that there is a portal, a door left open to the void, that does not belong to Sans. The magical residue that is left on the edges of the portal cannot be traced to any monster. Sans has stated the only familiar magic he felt from this residue...has come from Jun.”

“That’s nonsense,” you snap immediately, snatching your hand away from Sans. “It’s not possible. Jun is a human! We don’t _have_ magic!” You scoff, but none of the other monsters join in with your disbelief. Even Papyrus looks troubled.

 

“why don’t ya let the kid say it himself?” Sans’ lazy drawl has never pissed you off more than now.

“Why are you blaming magical problems on humans?!” You retort immediately, and you’re somehow gratified by how uncomfortable Sans looks.

“Now, my child, please do not be upset.” Toriel shifts her glasses, looking pained. “We say the residue is familiar to Jun’s magic, not that Jun is the culprit.”

“But Jun doesn’t have magic. He’s human!”

 **“like i** **_said,_ ** the kid should answer it himself.”

The atmosphere is charged, and you’re clutching Jun as tightly as he is to you.

“My child?” Toriel is gazing worriedly at Jun. Like she cares. All she wants is just someone who’s not a monster to pin her troubles on. A scapegoat, a child who can barely stand up to one of them. The hate and the righteous fury eats you up from the inside. You can’t take this. You need to leave.

“I, uh,” Jun starts to say, and you can feel your heart squeeze. He shouldn’t stay here and listen to these people accuse him of something impossible. “Yes. I...I have magic.”

What. What? What is he talking about? Is he just agreeing to these monsters for the sake of keeping peace?

“J-Jun!”

“I do have it.” His voice is quiet, steady, like he’s discussing the weather. But his small frame trembles against you.

“How long have you had magic?” Toriel’s voice is soft, gentle, like a doctor assessing her patient. Like it’s not a confrontation.

“A while. I’ve always...always had it.”

“You’re lying.” The words spill out of your lips before you could stop them, and Jun tenses next to you. “Why are you just going along with what they’re saying?”

“I-I’m not. I, I just never said anything, b-because I didn’t want you to be scared of me.”

“Oh.”

Your heart is too big for your chest, trying to squeeze itself up your throat and escape. You swallow hard, eyes staring hotly into nothing. What a joke. _Jun is your family,_ you said. You thought you knew everything about him, thought he depended on you. But he kept such enormous secrets from you, such big burdens. Just so you wouldn’t be _scared_ of him?

What does that even say about you?

 

“Jun.” Toriel’s soothing voice brings you back to the room. “I’m sorry, let me just ask you one more thing. Do you know anything about a Dr. Wingdings Gaster?”

Jun furrows his brows, and nods his little head firmly. Another secret. Someone he's never mentioned. You catalogue it away.  

“He’s a scientist.” The brothers on either side of you stiffen at the answer, looking away. What the hell was up with that?

“How...how do you know him?”

“I grew up in his laboratory.” Jun scratches at his cheek absently, and the room waits silently for him to continue.

“He said...um. He called me his _son.”_

 

You don’t understand why Papyrus buries his skull in his gloved hands, or why the glowing blue clock rams itself against the wall, and shatters to the carpet in a hundred tiny pieces.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo one major plot point revealed! (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ  
> check out my tumblr for updates, if ya want! i'm gonna start posting sneak previews of the next chapters too, i think?


	12. the color of magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty heavy, angsty chapter. you've been warned. （◞‸◟）
> 
> lots of swearing and bad language, so that's a warning for this chapter, i guess. (o´・д・｀o)

The sound of silence shatters you on the inside.

“W-Why? H-How could you not tell me these things, Jun?” Your voice cracks, and you bite your lip to stop it from trembling. “You have a father called Doctor Gaster? You belong somewhere? You told me you had no one!!” Jun is silent, blank eyes staring at the ground. You can feel Sans reaching for you, but you jerk out of his grasp. His fingers falter in the empty air, and drop uselessly to the couch. 

“And you have _magic?  How_  many more secrets are you keeping from me? Actually, no." You stare at him with watery eyes, willing yourself not to cry. “No. I won’t believe it until you show me.”

 

“I won’t.” His voice sounds frightened but determined, his little brows furrowed tightly. “I won’t.”

“Why not?” You give a little choked off, hysterical laugh. “I-Is it because you’re lying? You’re lying to protect us again, aren’t you? Going along with whatever nonsense they say isn’t going to help, Jun.” You catch his hands in yours, and he tries to pull away. “I won’t let them hurt us. So, please, just tell the truth. You don’t have magic. Say it.”

“I can’t lie.” His fluffy white head is bowed, slender shoulders shaking. “It’s true.”

_“Then show me!”_

“I won’t!” 

“Why?!”

Something dark and slimy shoots out, curling around your neck, squeezing so tight you gasp for air. Jun is crying, shaking like a leaf, his body burning in magic.

 

“I told you. _I told you.”_

You choke, scrabbling hard at the tendrils wrapped around your neck, your vision darkening at the edges. Somewhere, far away, you can hear Sans shouting your name. Your throat burns from the lack of oxygen.

Bright green lights explode in front of your eyes, and the air fills the stench of acrid smoke.

 

“Aye, I reckon that’s enough.” The grip around your throat releases, and you fall, boneless, onto the carpeted floor, heaving for air. Your vision returns to you, slow and gradual, but you can feel yourself being quickly gathered into someone’s arms. It must be Sans. 

There’s another enormous being at the door, taller and broader than Sans is, but not bigger than Papyrus. He looks almost like a monster, if not for the huge scraggly beard and beady eyes that peer out from behind a whole lot of hair. He adjusts the thick leather belt around his port belly, peers around the room, and gingerly scrapes his feet off on the carpet.

“Excuse me.” Toriel’s voice is sharp-edged, and Papryus is by her side immediately as she hurries to the door. “Who are you, human? How did you get here?”

 

“Oh my lord, that’s a talkin’ goat right there,” he mumbles, clutching onto his sides as he gives Toriel a nervous side-glance. He clears his throat, and it sounds like a thunder rumble. “Uh, ‘cuse me missus, you wouldn’t happen to know a kid called Jun, would you?”

You freeze up anxiously and try to move towards Jun, but Sans holds you firmly in his arms, motioning for you to be quiet.

“What business do you have with him?” Oh, man. Toriel sounds really mad.

 

He gives another nervous shuffle. “It’s just that, ah, I’m...I’m sent here to collect him, miss. The letter’s been sent a couple o’ times, but there’s some sorta barrier ‘round the place they live, it blocks out all the letters.”

“What letter?” Your own voice surprises you, and the giant glances over at you. You can see his relief in finding another human being. He gives you a little wave, fat sausage fingers wriggling in your direction.

“O-Oh ey, whaddya know, there are actual humans in here.” He neatly sidesteps Toriel, and Papyrus hovers over him uncertainly. “Well, the acceptance letter, of course! Ey boy, you must be Jun.” The giant walks over to the front of the couch and shakes Jun’s hand in his enormous grip, grinning like Jun’s an old friend. Nobody knows what is happening, but this human seems to bear no ill will.

“I don’t know who you are,” Jun admits, his voice still a little shaky and raw from crying. The giant’s gaze softens, and he crouches down to speak to Jun.

“Look at ya, sobbin’ like a baby. Cheer up! I got good news for ya.” He tousles Jun’s hair, getting a little mud on him. He jerks a big thumb towards his own chest.

“Name’s Hagrid." He settles back on his haunches, gazing at Jun proudly. "Yer a wizard, Jun.”

You move towards Jun, and Sans’ finally loosens his grip, though he keeps a wary eye on Hagrid. Hagrid smiles at you as you approach, reaching for Jun’s hand. Jun holds on to you tightly. “A wizard. _A wizard?_ So that was...that was really magic." 

 

“Yer right, missy,” Hagrid chortles. “And he’s long past his eleventh birthday, eh? Long due for wizard school!”

“Wizard...school…?”

“Aye! Tis not a proper wizard without no trainin’! Your father, Mistah Gaster, wasn’t it? He put a lot of gold in the bank for ya, sonny. Enough for school books, and yer own wand!” Hagrid pulls a chain watch from his pocket, and his eyes widen. “Well, would ya look at the time. We need to go now, boy! We still havta get ta England!”

“England?!”

“Yea, for some reason that’s the only bloody wizarding school I’ve ever heard of, besides that fancy no-shit all girls’ one.” Jun is hoisted upright, tugged along behind Hagrid.

“Wait!!” You hurry behind them. “C-Can’t I go, too? I can’t leave Jun alone!”

“Sorry missy, wizards and witches only.” He gives you an apologetic nod. “But I’ll return him to ya once summer rolls ‘round. Ya can still send him letters, by owl.”

“Owl? Owl like the _bird?_ Wait, sir, I-I don’t underst-”

“Do ya own a fireplace?” Hagrid glares at the apartment, busting open door after door. The third one is Grillby’s room, and he jumps at the sight of everyone staring at him. He must have been changing midway, for he's only in his pants. He folds his arms crossly, glaring at the intrusion. Hagrid, however, brightens at the sight of Grillby. “Ah blast it, that’ll do."

 

“What will do?” You frown, trying to stop him as he makes a beeline towards a startled Grillby. “Mr. Hagrid, you can’t just take Jun-”

“No time to explain!” Hagrid rummages in his tattered bag, grabs a handful of something powdery, and tosses it at Grillby. He sneezes, looking offended for a moment, before his flames burst into bright, neon green.

_“Oh my fucking god,_ **_boss!”_ **

 

Sans tugs you behind him, staring wide eyed as Hagrid picks Jun up with one arm, and hoists his bag close with another.

“Diagon Alley!” he bellows. What the heck was a diagon alley?! You watch, horrified, as the giant takes a running leap into Grillby’s chest. The green flames roar, exploding outwards, swallowing both Jun and the giant.

Just as quickly as it happened, the green recedes from Grillby’s flames, and he turns back into his lovely, warm orange, still looking quite ill. Or perhaps it’s the residue of the strange silver powder Hagrid threw on him. He pats all over his chest, looking like he’s about to throw up. Sans takes a careful step towards him, bony fingers reaching out like he's expecting Grillby to explode.

“you feeling okay, grillbz?”

Grillby’s head snaps up, eyes wide and bewildered. He opens his mouth and wheezes,

 

**_“Motherfucker, someone's messing with this chapter.”_ **

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy april fools day.


	13. the color of mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay folks, this one's the real deal.

Everyone stares at the broken clock, whirring helplessly on the floor, before the gears cease and it gives a defeated whine.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice sounds far away, too still, too calm. You can’t tear your eyes off the scattered pieces of the clock. “Jun, you have someone waiting for you? A father?”

Jun shakes his head, blank gaze staring into nothing. “Not anymore. He’s disappeared.”

“disappeared **where?”**

 

Sans’ rumbly, menacing growl makes you jump, and Toriel gives him a disapproving look.

“Don’t know.” Jun squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back. “He just...left. Disappeared. Everything was gone. And the lab he lived in. Like nothing was ever there.”

“I see. That must have been scary for you, Jun.” Toriel’s gentle voice does nothing to ease the confusion in your chest.

“it’s not the first time he pulled that schmick.”

“SANS, _PLEASE.”_

"s'plains why the kid's magic feels familiar, as well hidden as it is. doesn't answer _all_ the questions, though."

 

You can't look at their faces, at any of them. You can’t even figure out what you’re supposed to think. It's useless to yell, useless to point fingers. Right now, you just want to be safe. “E-Even so...even if Jun could use magic, I never saw him doing anything with the, uh, portal. I was always by his side.”

It hits you, all of a sudden, that it’s not entirely true. Jun spends hours and hours in the apartment, alone. You never really ask him what he does, because the answer is always the same. Is that bit of overlooking somehow...your fault?

Something shuffles in front of you, and you shift your gaze to find Toriel kneeling in front of you, her brown eyes as sweet and warm as melted caramel. She looks genuinely worried and afraid, and you feel guilty for thinking that she wanted to use Jun as a scapegoat for whatever magical problems they had.

 

Jun gives a tiny sniffle, and you instinctively pull him closer, hands rubbing down his trembling back to soothe him. Toriel clears her throat softly.

“My child, I did not mean to accuse Jun of anything. I am merely worried about his involvement in the suspicious events occurring.” She pats down her thick gingham skirt, folding her palms neatly in her lap. “It’s not my wish to see another child hurt again.”

You blink. _Another_ child? Did she mean Frisk was hurt before?

 

“Might I see your magic, little one?” Jun peers in the direction of her voice, owlish eyes blinking. He stares up at you, like he’s asking for permission, and you smooth his overgrown bangs from his eyes, making an agreeable noise.

He holds his small hand out trustingly. Toriel cups his hand carefully with her large paws, and magic sparks from her fingertips, encasing Jun’s hand in a pretty sunset-orange glow.

 

Jun’s fingertips patter happily in the warmth, and it takes a while before something dark and gooey oozes from his fingertips, nothing at all like the airy, vapory substance of Toriel’s magic. Your breath catches in your throat, and Sans’ loose grip on your waist tightens. It leaks onto Toriel’s palms, and to her credit, she stays calm even though Sans and Papyrus have tensed up, shifting uneasily on the couch.

She runs her thumb over Jun’s fingers in a comforting manner, and his magic stirs, the oil slick-like substance curling around her thumb, clinging to her hand. It explores tentatively, running through her fur, but the further it spreads from Jun, the more translucent it becomes, like a shadow.

 

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” Toriel’s voice is as gentle as ever, but Jun’s magic retreats quickly. She gives his little hand a quick pat, and rises to her feet gracefully.

“W-Well?” You don’t know what the hell to make of anything that just happened, but Toriel seems less severe than she did. She gives a dry chuckle at your anxious expression, looking chagrined.

_“Well,”_ she begins, gazing kindly down at you, “Jun doesn’t have old magic, which is the trace found on the portals. I’m sure there is no direct link yet, but perhaps it is good to keep an eye on him. Just in case. As for Dr. Gaster, I’m afraid we don’t know very much about him, yet. We’re still trying to find out as much as we could from what little clues he’s left behind. But for now, it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

She tugs at the edges of her sleeves, looking a little abashed. “I’m sorry I frightened you two so unnecessarily. I hope you can forgive us, my child. I just thought, perhaps, you might have had some crucial information about a long lost friend.”

 

“Uh. O-Of course.” Jun seems much calmer now, though it might be a side effect from the soothing warmth left behind from Toriel’s magic. He sinks into your side sleepily. “I-It’s just that...I can’t watch him all the time, b-because of work…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She smiles with the grace of a queen, lacing her fingers together. “I’d like to extend our friendship to you, my child. I’m sure it must be hard, living alone all this time. And Frisk would be so overjoyed to have a little friend, rather than an old lady fussing over him.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” Relief washes over you, knowing that at the very least, Jun wouldn’t be so alone anymore. So what if things didn’t turn out the way you imagined? You didn’t fully understand everything that was going on, but it wasn’t like they had all the answers either. The most important thing right now was that both Jun and you were safe. 

And you had Toriel as a friend. At least, for now. 

 

“If you’ll excuse us, my dears, I have some more matters to discuss with the Captain and his brother. Jun looks like he needs some proper rest.” You turn to Sans for the first time, and his expression is blank, unreadable.

“Sure.” Jun is almost half falling asleep on you, anyway. Perhaps using magic drained him, like it did to Sans. Scooping him up, you turn to leave, squeezing Sans’ fingers encouragingly as you go. He doesn’t smile back, but he clinks a kiss to your hand, and holds onto it for as long as he can. It dangles emptily over the armrest when you finally break contact and leave the room.

Toriel lifts her brows as soon as the door shuts behind you, and Sans snorts at her expression.

 

“spit it out.”

“Oh, _Tori,”_ she groans, in an exaggerated baritone, “being in a relationship is so much work, _Tori._ Anniversaries and flowers, that ain’t me. I hardly remember my own birthday.” She slouches over, sticking her hands into her skirt pockets. Sans resents that.

“we’re not really,” he argues weakly, “just...tryin’ out, y’know?” Toriel ignores him entirely.

“Unless the dates are sleepovers, I just can’t see it happening, _Tori._ I’m too lazy to fall in love, _Tori.”_ She raises both hands in a lazy shrug, and shakes her head.

There’s a muffled snickering, and Sans sighs as he watches Papryus’ big shoulders shaking.

“betrayed and slandered by those closest to me. whose side are you even on, pap?”

“I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD, AND MY LOYALTIES ARE SWORN TO HER MAJESTY-”

“never mind, forget i asked.”

“I guess you’re not a _lone bone_ anymore, eh?”

“hey! you promised ya wouldn’t bring it up again!”

_“NYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHAEHAE!”_

"Apologies, Sans. Captain, when you've recollected yourself, could you please update us on the status of the new Temmie village?" 

 

__________________________________________________________________

  


Grillby was kind enough to give Jun his own bed, insisting the guest room was too dusty. It wasn’t often he had to entertain guests. You tucked Jun into the oversized bed, his body looking even paler and smaller in the rich, dark covers.

The door squeaks as someone sneaks into the room, and you smile when Frisk makes his way over, crawling to sit on the bed next to you. He gives you a big, charming grin, and nudges you gently.

“So, you and Sans, huh?” he whispers, his grin mischievous instead of charming now, and you somehow regret forgetting yourself at the dinner table. “He’s such a good secret keeper. How long have you been together?”

“W-We’re not!” you blurt, and his mouth falls open. “Not...not really together,” you amend hastily. “We decided to try things out. You’ll understand, when you’re older.”

_“Scandalous.”_ Frisk’s eyes are glowing, and you almost hate that expression if it wasn’t so cute. “Has he asked you out on a date?”

 

“Well, no,” you admit, and Frisk gives a mock-offended gasp. “It’s not like, it’s just, things have been pretty heavy these days!” Why are you trying to hard to defend yourself in front of a child? “And, you know, it’s not like I asked him, either.” You shuffle uneasily on the bed, and Jun’s soft snores fills the silence.

“Are you gonna? You sure you gonna?” Frisk inches closer, his manic grin practically splitting his face. The way he says it almost seems like he’s challenging you, in the sing-song, childish way children do.

“Y-Yeah!” _Oh god. Why did you say that?_ “Eventually.”

“No backing out!” Frisk says gleefully, bouncing on the bed. It would have woken Jun up, if he wasn’t such a deep sleeper.

 

“I wasn’t gonna!” You fold your arms, pouting, ignoring the anxiousness winding itself around your heart. “I-I just...I don’t know where to go, for a monster _and_ a human, you know? And I don’t know what Sans would want to do, if it’ll be too boring, all we can do is hang out at home, uh, and-” This doesn’t seem like such a good idea, after all.

 

If you were wilting with the thought of possibly ruining the date, your ramble only seems make Frisk more determined. He thinks about it for a moment, brows furrowed tight, arms and legs crossed. He’s so spirited and full of character, somehow you kind of understand how Jun warmed to him so quickly.

“I know!” He crawls forward and whispers excitedly into your ear.

“Okay…?” Frisk wriggles expectantly, and you deflate. “Okay, that’s actually...a pretty good start. Now all I gotta do is ask him, right? A-And then, if it works, I guess I’ll have to find something...nicer than usual to wear…?” Easier said than done. How do dates even go again?

 

Frisk is practically vibrating in place with excitement.

“You seem more excited than me,” you laugh, and he nods furiously, brown hair flying.

“It’s just like on TV,” he whispers reverently, and you can’t help but giggle at his starstruck gaze.

“I hope it goes as smoothly as it _does_ on TV.” What kind of shows are Frisk even watching? “But he might be too busy, I don’t know, does he even get off days with the way things are going on right now? Maybe this is going a bit fast, I should just ask him a little later-”

 

Frisk catches your wrists with his small hands, stopping your anxious ramble, and you breathe in deeply.

“No backing out,” he repeats firmly. “It’s gonna be great! Charm him, enrapture him!”  
“What?” You give him a skeptical side glance. “Yeeeah, you definitely watch too much TV, kiddo.” Frisk gives an offended sniff.

“Just do it like on TV!” He places a small hand on your cheek, gazing as soulfully at you as he can, which translates to him widening his narrow eyes to their maximum capacity. You bite your lip so you wouldn’t laugh. “The stars in the night sky are nothing compared to your eyes.” His expression returns to normal, and he blinks at you expectantly.

Oh my god.

“Is that it, Casanova?” Frisk pinches your cheek in retaliation.

 

Someone clears their throat, and the both of you turn to see Sans leaning against the doorframe, looking both weirded out and amused. He’s slouched over slightly so his head doesn’t hit the top of the door.

“trying to steal her from right under my nose, eh kid?”

Steal? _Steal??_ Your face burns, and Frisk looks unbearably smug as he perches himself in your lap.

“You don’t have a nose. And I’m not stealing if she’s not taken.” 

“oh man. she _said_ that?” Sans turns to you, and you stare at the floor instead, burying your toe in the carpet. He sounds like he’s enjoying this, that bastard. “welp, should i have made it more obvious?”

 

“Definitely.” Frisk nods solemnly, and you want to put your hands over his mouth, but you’re too awkwardly frozen up with _Sans wanting to make it more obvious what does that even mean how are the two of you_ **_not_ ** _obvious-_ “That’s why she has something special to ask you!”

“what?”

_“What?”_

 

Sans looks surprised. He straightens up a little more from his slouch, and tucks his hands deeper into his pockets. Is he...nervous?

Well, if he’s nervous, you’re practically sweating buckets. You want to hug Frisk and throw him out the window at the same time. You’re not ready, you’re not ready, you’re not ready for this yet oh my god-

Frisk hops off your lap, and does finger guns at you all the way out the door. You give a laugh that sounds maybe a little too high pitched. Sans rubs the back of his skull awkwardly, giving you an amused chuckle.

 

“that sounds ominous. is everything o-”

“ _D_ _oyouwannagoout?_ Date? Like, with me? Like date you know like dinner like candles and stuff and romantic I guess but it’s not really a dinner I planned there doesn’t have to be candles you know it just can be you and me but it also doesn’t have to be romantic because that’s a lotta pressure I don’t wanna pressurise you haha cuz it’s easy with me, you know? Not that kind of easy I mean I’m sure you know what I mean hoho you don’t have to say yes.”

You breathe in deeply, almost wheezing, and sneaked a peek at his expression. His grin has completely dropped, and his eyes are wide, stance frozen.

 

Oh my god. Why did you let Frisk talk you into this? You want to throw _yourself_ out the window.

“S-Sans?” He shuffles in place, and you tug at the ends of your hair anxiously. Right. Right. This isn’t going well at all.

“Please say something,” you whisper.

“doll, i…” He drags his hand down his face, grimacing. Uh oh. “i can’t believe i never asked you.”

Oh. What?

“of all the goddamn things to slip my mind,” he grumbles, rapping his knuckles against his skull, brows furrowed together. Was he going to ask you? On a date, an actual real date? Or was he talking about something else entirely?

 

You manage to pry yourself off the bed, walking hesitantly over to him as he continues his bout of irritation with himself. For someone so careful of his strength around others, he certainly doesn’t treat himself the same way. You reach up, on the tip of your toes, so you can grab his wrist.

“Stop that,” you chide, bringing it down with you. He softens, and he twists his wrist so he can brush his fingers over your cheek. You can feel yourself flushing to your ears at his affectionate gaze, and it burns hotter and more pleasantly than Toriel’s magic. You lean into his touch, drawn in helplessly, and bury your face into his palm.

“So is that a yes?” you ask timidly, muffled. He gives a considering hum.

“i’m a skeleton with very high standards,” he quips, like he’s quoting someone. You pout, wondering if he’s just teasing you or if he really is going to lay out his expectations. His fingers tilt your head upwards so you can’t hide your face from him. His lazy grin is full-blown, the lights in his eyes bright. 

"I guess...I guess we can have ketchup on our date," you say dryly. He laughs, a genuine, low laugh, and he clinks a kiss against your forehead.

"you just met all my standards." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DATING START!!


	14. the color of stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like 93.9% fluff.

Everyone else seemed more excited for the date than the two of you.

During the very short amount of time while you were blubbering your way through asking Sans out for a date, Frisk had gone around merrily informing each and every person in the apartment of the news. Unfortunately, that meant by the time you and Sans were walking out into the dining area, everyone was there with... _congratulations?_

“SANS!” Papyrus’ loud voice startles you so hard that you almost wrench your hand away from Sans, but he holds on tightly, fingers laced with yours. If you thought Frisk’s eyes sparkled, Toriel’s practically gleamed, her fingers fluttering in a happy little clap above her chest. “WHY HAVEN’T YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU WERE DATING A HUMAN?!” Papyrus storms forward, his hands on his hips. He towers over the both of you, and you find yourself shrinking into Sans’ side, your heart a leaden weight in your chest.

Did Papyrus disapprove of his brother being so close to another human? He was the Captain of the monster guards, wasn’t he? He had to face hostility from humans every day, it wasn’t surprising that he hated one so close to his family...

“I COULD HAVE PREPARED YOU BETTER FOR DATING! YOU’D BETTER START READING MY DATING HANDBOOK JUST IN CASE YOU FIND YOURSELF AT A LOSS OF WHAT TO DO!”

Wait, what? Dating _handbook?_

 

“paps, i think i’ll be fine.”

“DON’T BE LAZY, SANS! YOU’LL THANK ME WHEN YOU’VE MANAGED TO CHARM YOUR DATE INSTEAD OF SCARING HER AWAY!” Papyrus freezes in place like he just realised the implication of his words, and turns to you, looking a little sheepish. “N-NOT THAT SANS ISN’T CHARMING, HUMAN! MY BROTHER MAY BE LAZY, BUT I TRUST THAT HE IS A GENTLEMAN!” The leaden weight in your chest lifts immediately. Papyrus isn’t disapproving of you after all!

“thanks, paps.”

“EVEN IF HE MAKES HORRIBLE JOKES!”

“heh. thanks, paps.”

“AND HE HAS A DISGUSTING SOCK COLLECTION!”

“oohkay, heh, that’s enough.”

“AND I’M AT LEAST EIGHTY PERCENT SURE HE HAS AN OLD KETCHUP BOTTLE COLLECTION HIDDEN SOMEWHERE!”

“paps. bro. it’s kay. just-”

“AND ONE TIME, I CAUGHT HIM TRYING TO EAT KETCHUP OUT OF THE HOOD OF HIS JACKET!”

**“papyrus.”**

 

Sans has both hands braced on his brother’s broad chest, and Papyrus tilts his head sideways, staring down at his brother curiously like a lost puppy. Toriel is crying, both hands clasped tightly over her mouth, and Grillby is crouched on the floor, one arm clutching onto his stomach, the other braced on the kitchen counter. Frisk pokes his tongue out, looking disgusted.

“DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG?” he bleats, looking pathetically at you. You shake your head immediately, and give the poor giant puppy your warmest smile.

“Course not, Papyrus. You made your brother sound very, uh, interesting.” Sans’ shoulders flinch, and you bite your lip to suppress your giggle. “I’m very interested in getting to know him better on our _date._ ” Sans’ head perks up, and he turns to peek at you out of the corner of his eye, his cheekbones tinged a faint blue.

“REALLY?! WOWIE!” Papyrus exclaims, the lights in his eye sockets shining. “I’M SO GLAD! MY BROTHER IS A GOOD SKELETON, HE REALLY IS! HE IS NOT AS GREAT AS I, BUT HE’S THE NEXT BEST!”  

“I’m sure he is,” you agree. Sans moves back from Papyrus, staring at the wall pretty intensely, but his fingers fumble to find yours again. Papyrus doesn’t miss it, and he stares at your intertwined hands happily.

“SEE, SANS? I TOLD YOU, HUMANS CAN BE GOOD!” He looks so earnest that you feel your smile faltering, something heavy, like guilt, circling in your gut. He still believes in humans, after all this? “HUMANS CAN BE GOOD TOO, IF THEY JUST TRY!” He looks pleased and proud of you, and you duck your head a little shyly. 

“you were right, pap. as always.” Sans is gazing down at you, eyes gentle, and you feel your cheeks burn. Toriel makes a tiny ‘aww’, and you hide your face in his arm.

"OF COURSE I AM! IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU LISTENED TO YOUR BROTHER! WE WOULDN’T WANT A REPEAT OF THE BUNNY INCIDENT WHEN YOU SCARED YOUR DATE TO-”

“do i smell spaghetti burning?”

“I’M NOT EVEN COOKING SPAGHETTI, SANS!”

 

The familiar pull of the void surrounds you, but Sans holds onto you tightly this time. You blink at the sudden darkness, but this one only lasts for a second. The chill permeates into your bones as Sans steps out neatly onto the roof, with you bundled safely against him.

You shiver in the winter night, arms wrapping around yourself. Something thick and heavy drops on your shoulders, almost making you buckle to your knees. His jacket is toasty warm and you’re grateful for it, pulling it tight around your shoulders.

“easy there, doll.” You pout as he saunters casually past you onto the ledge of the roof, one foot propped up on it casually. He pats his lap, the lights in his eyes shining brighter in the dark. You shuffle towards him in the oversized coat that almost reaches your ankles, and his grin grows wider at the sight of you. You just _know_ he’s making fun of you in his head.

 

Out of spite (and shyness), you sit next to him instead, huddling further down into his coat. He doesn’t look the least bit ruffled by your choice, and you understand why when your body is suddenly weightless, suspended in blue light. You shriek as you hover, spinning helplessly in mid-air, and land heavily right onto his lap, coat and all.

You huff as he wraps his arms around you, fighting off the blush burning your cheeks. Suddenly, it feels much too warm in here, with his chest pressed to your back, his broad shoulders blocking out the wind. His skull presses against your cheek, a cool touch to your flushed skin.

“T-There’s plenty of space. You don’t have to come so close.”

“want to,” he replies immediately. “i don’t hear you protesting.”

“I’m protesting right now!” you say, even as you lean into him. He gives a lazy chuckle, and buries his face into your shoulder.

“this is a weird way of protesting.” You can feel something like a kiss gently pressing against your neck, and you shiver. “you still cold, doll?”

“N-No,” you mumble into his coat, sinking into it to hide your face. “It’s nothing. Why are we up here?”

“needed some privacy. i haven’t got a lot of one-on-one time with ya recently, doll.”

“Pfft. Liar. You just came here to escape from Papyrus.” A snort is muffled into your hair, and you tilt your head up to bump it gently against his jaw. He bumps you back. “So, I have a lot of questions for you. Should I start with the ketchup thing...or the bunny incident? Was that a monster you dated back then?” He groans, and drops his head.

“paps is great, but he needs to learn how to take a break,” Sans grumbles into your shoulder. “he hasn’t taken a break since he first spoke.”

You laugh, and elbow him slightly. “Well, we can have all the breaks we want on our date.” Sans’ grin grows, sly and dangerous, and his grip around you tightens.

 “oh yeah?” he purrs. “i hope i can handle what you’ve planned. should i prepare a tux? iron down my best suit?”

“I don’t think so,” you reply cheerfully. “I’m not expecting much for someone who eats ketchup out of the hood of his jacket.”

“... just so you know, the only thing saving you right now is yer pretty face, missy.”

You bury your giggles into the fur lining of his coat.

 

______________________________________________

 

Asgore Dreemurr stares at the pot of golden flowers, towering in the corner of his office.

Under his gentle care, they spread like weeds on the surface. He carefully presses a petal between his fingers, caressing the velvety surface. Lovely as they are, their purpose isn’t pretty. They humble Asgore, remind him of the sacrifices of his past, the blood stained on his hands. The image of those golden flowers, bright petals stained with the dark blood of his first human child, is burnt into his memory.

He has done his fair share of despicable, dirty things, through his subordinates, through his own hands, for the sake of his people. Perhaps it is a noble deed, a sacrifice to be made for the greater good, but how is one life worth any more than another? It is not. It is not, no matter how noble the intention, how great the benefit, blood is still blood. And his hands will never be clean, no matter how many lives he saves, no matter how many happy endings he create. Toriel saw it from the start, knew that his grief from the start would lead him to this grief in the end. Hate only births more hate.

He wishes, sometimes, that he had taken the time to listen to her. That he’d tried to find another solution with her, instead of giving up to his hate.

 

So he repents. He does right by what he can, and he takes care of his people. But staring at the smug, slick new human ambassador makes his gut churn. Frisk is still young, far too young to be considered seriously as an ambassador for an entire species, so until he turns eighteen, adult humans would take his place.

“I’m telling you, Asgore, this plan’s gonna fly straight with the humans.” He smiles his oily, shiny grin, and takes another swig of coffee from his mug. Asgore’s tea remains on his table, cold and untouched.

“I’m afraid I do not understand what you mean,” Asgore begins again, voice weary but patient. He tries to relax his grip on the armrest.

“Galas, balls, parties! Whatever you call it.” The ambassador waves his hand in the air excitedly. “It’s how humans bond, how they make connections! When they see you in unthreatening situations, they see you as allies! You should get your most charming, charismatic, uh, _people,_ and you know, set them up with dates, like-”

“Humans?”

 _“Monsters.”_ The ambassador’s smile twitches at Asgore’s suggestion. “You can bring a few humans if you like, but monster families, monster couples, that’s gonna bring in the crowds, you know? Show that you’re just like humans!”

“Are you sure this is going to go well?” Asgore presses his thumb hard against the pounding in his skull. “We want to integrate successfully amongst humans, live amongst them, be their friends. That’s the kind of message I’d like to send across, not to let them come to a party and gawk at us, so they can determine for themselves if we’re human _enough.”_

 

“Exactly!” The ambassador pounds his armrest, and the headache Asgore has seems to increase tenfold. “Asgore, the steps to integration don’t just happen overnight. It takes months, maybe…”

“My people have been waiting for _years.”_

“I know, I know.” The ambassador raises his hands. “It is hard. But this will take a step forward in the right direction, I assure you. Bring your families, your loved ones, your wives and husbands. Whatever. It will show that you are just like humans, and you want equal rights.” He holds up a finger. “Separate, but equal.”

“That’s not exactly what I’m going for, ambassador,” Asgore argues weakly, “I don’t want monsters to be separate, I want them integrated. I really don’t think equal rights are granted quite correctly when there is a clear division between our species.”

“That is not going to happen overnight, I assure you, but this will definitely be the right step in the right direction.” He leans forward, bright eyes looking at Asgore earnestly. “I’m human, so you leave the human details to me, sir. Just go ahead and plan the gala, send the invites. Get a new suit, get a pretty date.” He winks, and starts to get up. Asgore stands with him. “What’s there to worry about? You take care of the monsters. Let me deal with the human business, and everything will be dandy, eh?”

Asgore watches him wearily as he makes his way out of his office, and sighs.

“That is exactly what I am worried about.”

 

______________________________________________

 

Countdown: two hours to the date.

Due to the recent attacks at the city square, monster patrol had been doubled. Sans and Papryus were so busy that you couldn’t see them for more than two hours at a time. When your work hours were over, Sans could only sneak a few minutes to see you until he was dragged off to patrol. You savoured those precious moments to tide you over until the time you could see him again.

But finally, _finally,_ after a horrendous week, Sans found someone to stand in for him, for just one day. Grillby generously gave you the day off for a break. But you spent the entire morning stressing, and the entire afternoon cooking what little you had for the picnic.

The date plan was a picnic, walking in the woods, and stargazing. Frisk had assured you those were things that Sans would enjoy. Right now, the kid was in the middle of strategizing on top of your dining table, notepad and pen in hand. He has one pen stuck behind his ear, and another somehow tangled in his messy brown hair. Jun is reading, leaning lazily against his back while his fingers patter across his brand new braille book, a gift from Toriel.  

 

“Sandwiches!” Frisk calls, pen in the air.

“Check!” You stick the tub of sandwiches into the borrowed picnic basket.

“Juice boxes!”

“Check!”

“Two large Heinz ketchup tubs!”

“...C-Check.”

“Is that hesitation I hear?” The pen swivels to jab in your direction accusingly. “If you truly like your date, woman, you will like him despite the shortcomings he has, even if it’s his unusual, disgusting diet!”

“Yessir.” You give him a solemn salute, and he flicks his pen at you, satisfied.

“Get in the bath. Mother will bring your dress soon, and you are to report to your room at eighteen oh hours to get dressed.”

“Yessir!”

Frisk’s latest fascination has been the documentaries of military forces, and he’s enchanted by the ruggedness of soldiers and the exciting, rigid precision of ‘Operation this’ and ‘Project that’. Everything sounds much cooler when you add a nice title.

And who’re you to not indulge him in it?

 

There’s a garment bag waiting on your bed when you’re done with your bath, neatly embroidered with the word ‘MUFFET’ in lovely violet thread. You lift the garment bag, feeling a little guilty but mostly exhilarated. Toriel had taken the liberty of getting an old dress refashioned by a talented monster seamstress, just for your date. Your heart pounds as you unzip it, hoping it’ll suit you.

Something blue and frothy blooms as the garment bag opens, and you clap your hand over your mouth. It’s a pretty little blue dress, the bright color of robin eggs. Oh, it’s too lovely, it must cost far too much, you can’t wear this and ruin it!

“T-Toriel!” She peeks in immediately, looking concerned. “I-I can’t wear this!”

“Why not, my child?” she asks worriedly, walking in. “You haven’t even tried it on.”

“It’s too good!” you squeaked. “It’s too nice, it must cost a bomb! I can’t, I have to return it!” 

“Nonsense.” She lifts the lovely dress from your bed, and unbuttons the back swiftly. “Come, let me see you in this.”

 

You’re almost manhandled into it, but the dress pops over your head neatly, and fits you like a glove. Whoever this Muffet is, she’s good. The cotton feels light and breezy on your skin, the long, slightly puffy sleeves gathering at your wrists in stiff black cuffs. The sweetheart neckline accentuates your bust nicely, and the black silk sash around your waist makes you look elegant and full figured, like an hourglass. This is probably the most feminine you’ve ever felt in your life.

Toriel buttons up the back, and you slip on the matching black silk slippers. You walk around the room to break them in, and the full skirts swishes around your knees, puffed up by a hundred layers of thin silk petticoats. It makes you feel otherworldly. Like a nymph. Like Alice in Wonderland. You want to wear this dress everywhere, and never take it off.

“Oh, it looks better on you than I imagined,” Toriel croons, brown eyes shiny with delight. She clasps her hands together happily. “Give me a twirl, my child.” You laugh a little as she holds your hand and spins you. Frisk peeks in, open mouthed, tugging Jun along with him.

“It’s a princess!” he declares, and you giggle as he drops into a bow. You curtsey the best you can without wobbling. The tiny room is filled with chatter and laughter for a moment as you spin round and round with Jun and Frisk, their small hands clasped in each of yours. You melt at Jun’s breathlessly delighted laugh, his stockinged feet chasing yours as you dance.

 

“knock knock.”

Someone raps on your bedroom door, and your small party breaks apart for a moment to look at the new guest. Sans gives Toriel a lazy wave, and she raises her brows at him.

“Come in,” you call, and Sans groans, lowering his head to enter your room. “you’re such a pun killa-aaaaa.” His eyes sockets widen as he takes you in. “ah.”

Something flashes, and you turn to see Frisk’s little hand holding up a disposable camera, aimed right at Sans’ stupefied face. He shrieks with laughter and dashes out, Jun and Toriel right on his tail. You can hear Toriel reprimanding him in the hallway. Sans blinks, and you fidget nervously in place.

“Does it...look bad? Am I too overdressed?” you ask anxiously. “I am, aren’t I?”

“no!” He seems to recollect himself in an instant, his hands clutching your shoulders. “not at all.” He coughs into his fist, and straightens up, staring at your feet. “you look pretty good.”

Your shoulders sag with relief, and you beam up at him. “Oh, thank goodness. I was worried. The picnic basket’s on the table! I packed extra ketchup. Boss said he’d put it on _my_ tab this time, so don’t worry about it.” You slip past him, eager to start the date. “Come on, Sans!”

“right behind ya, dollface,” he mutters, waiting till you run out of the room to bury his face in his palms. Fucking hell, you were going to be the end of him. He almost lost his composure there for a good solid second, at least. Toriel was never gonna let him live this one down. His reputation, ruined.

_“Sans!”_

“i’m coming, i’m coming.”

 

He stands beside you while you thank Toriel for looking after Jun while you’re gone, and you hug Jun as tightly as you can without hurting him. He wriggles and grumbles at the tight hold, but he hugs you back. Sans is steadfastly ignoring Toriel’s smug face (which in his opinion, has no right to look as smug as it does) as he walks past her into the void, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

The pull of it disorientates you for a long moment before you realise you’re standing on grass instead of scuffed wood.

 

“this it?” You glance around the clearing. You’ve asked Sans to deposit you at the top of a small hill, just a little off the forests of Ebott. The sun is almost setting, basking the grassy hill with the dusty periwinkle blue of dusk. It’s going to be dark soon, you left later than you thought. Acting quickly, you roll out the picnic mat with Sans’ help. The glass jars are set at the edges of the mat to keep it from flying away in the wind, and you immediately set about cracking the glow sticks, so you can fill the jars with light before the sun disappears completely.

Sans watches you with unbridled curiosity, dangling a half broken glow stick above his head.

“this seems useful. how long do they last?”

“Just a couple hours,” you reply, filling the last of the jars with a handful of colorful glow sticks. The picnic mat glows with a multitude of soft colors, and you giggle as they reflect off Sans, bathing his white skull in a pink-yellow-blue glow.

You connect the last few glow sticks in a circle, and prop it on top of his head like a crown. He snorts, but he doesn’t protest it. Instead, he circles his arm around your waist while you lean forward to crown him, and you plop ungracefully onto his legs.

 

“You know, I purposely got a bigger mat so we’d have more space.”

“good effort,” he muses, flipping open the picnic basket as he keeps you on his lap. “keep tryin’, doll.” He weighs the extra large tub of ketchup in his palms, whistling admiringly. You scoff as he gives it a loving kiss.

“Great. I’ve already lost the first kiss of my date to a ketchup bottle,” you grumble, arranging your skirts neatly as you settle against him. He throws his head back and laughs, so open and delighted that it takes your breath away for a second. The deep, genuine laugh rumbles against you, and you wish you had thought of borrowing Frisk’s camera.

You try to capture this into your memory instead.

 

“sorry, doll.” You quickly look away, busying yourself by digging into the picnic basket when he catches you staring. You pull out a wrapped sandwich, turning to offer it to him, but his face is suddenly right up against yours. You hope it’s much too dark to see your cheeks burning red. “let me remedy that.”

Before you can speak, his lips press hesitantly, gently against yours, and your breath catches in your throat. His fingers gently slide to cup your jaw, brushing your hair back. His thumb dusts softly over your cheek, and you can’t help melting into him, fingers clutching clumsily at the front of his sweater, pressing back into the kiss as much as you can. He rumbles quietly, happily into the kiss, heavy, half lidded eyes staring at you.

You eventually break the kiss to breathe, and he scoops you up against his chest. You can feel the continuous rumble through his sweater, and you give a breathless little laugh. 

“You’re purring.”

“you dropped your sandwich.” He seems to be embarrassed by his purring, but the dim lights make it hard to see if he’s blushing, or if it’s just the hue of the glow sticks. You sigh, smiling, and tangle your fingers with his.

 “well, isn’t this romantic,” he teases. “am i always going to receive first class treatment like this, or is this a first date thing?”

“That depends on how well you behave,” you retort, smiling. “And if you’re gonna tell me about the date that you chased away.”

He groans, falling backwards onto the mat and bringing you with him. You squeak, frowning at him as he grins cheerfully down at you. “bringing up my exes on our first date, dollface? that’s heavy. or are you jealous already?”

“Is it really considered an ex if she ran away?”

“for the record,” Sans interrupts, bony finger jabbing the air. You burst out laughing at his insulted look. “she wanted to get married. she said, and i quote, “if we’re gonna do this, we’re going to last til marriage.” way to make a guy freak on his first date. so, i listed out my own terms. told her the worst things about myself to get out of it. i might have exaggerated some parts. and somehow, she passed it all on to papyrus.”

“And he believed it?”

“it wasn’t exactly...unbelievable.”

“So you really _do_ have an old ketchup bottle collection somewhere?”

“you can’t make me confess to nothin’.”

“I believe in Papyrus’ intuition. I think he’s right about your collection.” He gives a disbelieving snort. “He’s Captain of the Royal Guard, isn’t he? Reliable, dependable, strong.” You give a slow sigh. “I trust him. He’s the kind of man everyone wants.”

Sans actually lifts his head up to stare at you. “what, you got a thing for men in uniform?”

“All women have a thing for men in uniform,” you state, drawing lazy circles on his sweater. His head falls back, and his grip around your waist tightens as he pouts.

“i could be a captain,” he mutters to himself, and you grin at his silly jealousy. Tilting your head up, you kiss his jaw sweetly as an apology. His pout turns to a grin, and you suddenly find your world shifted as he rolls over so he can hover over you. 

 

“S-Sans?”

“heya.” His grin is wicked and playful, and you are acutely aware of how tight your bodice is, outlining every heave of your chest. His eyes dip down to them appreciatively, and you squeak, covering his eyes.

“L-Look at the stars! We came here to stargaze, you know!” You stare past his head determinedly, but your eyes eventually widen at the sight. Away from the city, and high enough to be above the thick fog, the stars are clear and bright. There must be a thousand of them.  A hundred thousand blinking, sparkling stars. It looks like the galaxy is just right in front of you.

You reach out to touch it, and Sans’ grin softens into a smile. He turns his head so he can kiss your outstretched hand, and your gaze shifts to him.

“Don’t you want to look at the stars? They’re amazing!!”

“been here before a hundred times, y’know,” he snickers. “this is actually my spot, but eh.” He shrugs, and leans down to nuzzle against your cheek. “besides, there’s something here much, much prettier than stars.”

“Oh, psh.” You swat at him, laughing. “Do you learn your lines from Frisk?”

“ouch,” he says, mock-grimacing, but the grin remains on his face as he dips his head to steal another kiss. And another, and another.

The ketchup bottle lays on its side, unopened.

 

Next to it, Sans’ phone buzzes lightly with an incoming call, but the two of you are far too wrapped up in each other to notice.

_‘New Incoming Call: Asgore’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is some more amazing [fanart](http://greytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/142228223090/boss-youre-burning-the-pancakes-my-second) from the very amazing tealatheart!  
> here is my [tumblr.](http://greytrashcan.tumblr.com/) come say hi! :D


	15. the color of disenchantment

“A party?”

You blink at Grillby, your cheeks still flushed with the afterglow of your first date, even though it’s been days. He gives a quiet crackle, amused at your dazed expression, and gently flicks your forehead.

 _“Yes. It’s a monster-human party, so it’ll be ok for you to be there.”_ He pushes up his sleeves, giving a smoky sigh. _“I need all the help I can get.”_

 You nod, tying your apron strings tightly around your waist. You can’t help but feel a little apprehensive. You don’t know everything about the politics going on right now, but being right in the midst of the war zone gives you a pretty good idea. Being a server at a party like this, not part of the humans outside, and not part of the monsters here, certainly wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Will Sans be there?” Grillby gives a husky laugh as he heaves the sack of flour over his shoulder.

 _“Is that all you think about?”_ You pout at the jab, directing your gaze at the chocolate cake batter you’ve been stirring. _“Yes. But he’ll be on duty.”_

“Oh.” Well, if anything, Sans being there makes you feel a little better. You wonder how he feels about these political events, and you realise you never really asked him much about it. What’s there to ask, anyway? You already have a good idea of what any monster would think.

 You pour the batter into the cake tin, watching as Grillby stacks up on the canned goods. His broad shoulders shift and strain against his black velvet vest as he moves, sleeves bunching up. His body looks like it’s built for fighting, not cooking, and it reminds you that he was the Captain of the very first war. You try to imagine him leading the guards like Papyrus does, but somehow his ever gentle demeanor doesn’t really fit.

“Boss, how come you’re not part of the guard anymore?”

Grillby stills, the flames on his head flickering wildly for a second as if he’s caught in a sudden burst of wind, and you regret opening your big mouth. But he only hesitates briefly before he resumes stacking the cans, his shoulders relaxing.

 

 _“Tired of fighting.”_ It’s so soft you almost miss it entirely, quiet and defeated. He shuts the pantry door, and turns to you, the expression on his face carefully blank.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” you stutter, clutching the mixing bowl in your hands. “It’s none of my business.” He pats your head gently.

 _“Knew it would come up someday,”_ he sighs, but he doesn’t elaborate. _“I’ll have a uniform for you. Wear it for the party tomorrow.”_

____________________________________________

 “I don’t wanna wear it! It itches!”

 Frisk wriggles unhappily in his little tux as Toriel tries to fix his bowtie again. She taps his nose sternly, ignoring his whines. “You and I both know it doesn’t, Frisk. We had it fixed last time. Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to wriggle your way out of this, young man.”

“I want to stay home with Jun and play!” He stares enviously at Jun, who is bundled up on the dining table, mouth stuffed full of escargot pie.

“You’ll have plenty of fun at the party,” Toriel tries as she starts on his bow all over again. “Other children to play with. Human children, even!” Frisk huffs.  

“No, I won’t! The humans from outside the city are always mean! They’re mean to you, and they’re mean to me! They won’t listen.” He catches her fidgeting hands, and he doesn’t notice them trembling. “Please, please, Mama, let me miss this one! I don’t wanna do this,” he begs, in the cutesy, wheedling tone that he knows Toriel can’t stand up to. “I just want to stay home with _you,_ Mama.”

Toriel smiles, but to Frisk’s horror, he sees her eyes turning shiny with tears. She sniffs, trying to smile encouragingly at Frisk, but her facade breaks as soon as Frisk’s small hand touches her cheek, his sweet face creased in a concerned frown. She pulls him into a loving hug, and Frisk lays his head on her shoulder, feeling conflicted.

 “I’m so sorry, my child,” she whispers, kissing the top of his sweet brown curls. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this.”

“It’s not your fault, Mama,” Frisk murmurs dutifully, rubbing Toriel’s back. “I’ll do it, so don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”

It only twists a knife further into Toriel’s soul, and she gives a shaky laugh. “You’re right, my child. It’ll be okay.” She smooths his hair back, and presses a loud smooch against his forehead. Frisk grins. “Be brave for me, Frisk. Won’t you?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“hey, everyone ready to...go, uh.” Sans falters in the doorway, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit. Toriel rises to her feet gracefully, wiping her eyes. His brow furrows as he steps closer, hand outstretched, but Toriel waves him away. “Frisk is ready to go.”

“uh. yea, paps’ car is outside.”

Frisk whoops, excited to sit in the red convertible, and dashes out the door. Sans watches him go with a wry grin, and he turns back to Toriel.

 “Sans, I’m fine.” His jaw clicks shut before he can even get out a word of worry, and he steps closer, hands tucked into his pockets. His teeth are bared in a smile, but he doesn’t look pleased.

“for someone who doesn’t have to attend this shit party, ya sure don’t look very happy.” He tilts his head, tapping his finger against his cheek in mock-thoughtfulness. Toriel’s head is bowed, and she can’t meet his eyes. Sans continues riling her up. “or are ya mad for missing out on a great party, with good food and _excellent company-”_

“I’m just so worried about Frisk,” she blurts, soft brown eyes blurring with fresh tears. “The humans were right, he is far too young for this. For any of this. I’m just so angry sometimes, for being so useless. If I cannot even protect him from this, what kind of mother am I?”

“hey, hey.” Sans squeezes her shoulder comfortingly, and Toriel buries her sob in her hands. “ya did what you could, tori. besides, i promised to keep an eye socket out for the kid, didn’t i? frisk will be okay.”

“You promise?”

“yeah.” His eyes are blank, even though his grin stands. His hand falls from her shoulder. “i promise.”

 “Thank you, Sans. I really appreciate it.” Sans blinks, and the light returns to his eyes. She smiles up at him, and claps her hands together as she remembers something.

“Oh! I heard you have to bring dates to the party.” Sans snorts, rolling his eyes.

“apparently that’s the tradition for this sort of party. paps is bringing undyne.”

Toriel frowns. “What about Alphys?”

“accordin’ to their human ambassador, humans don’t like couples of the same gender to be so...public.” Toriel looks confused, and Sans doesn’t blame her. “asgore wants us to fit in, so fitting in is what we’re doin’. humans have a lotta rules we don’t really understand, but hey. alphys is terrified of parties anyway. everything worked out, eh?” Sans spreads his arms, trying to look relaxed and jaunty, but Toriel seems to be struggling with herself.

“P-Perhaps,” she begins carefully, and her shoulders slump. “You will keep me updated, will you not?”

“course. you sure you don’t need help with texting? the small buttons on your phone are sure a _pressing issue_ for ya _._ ”

 Toriel shoots him a playful glare, and swats his rump. Sans laughs, secretly relieved as the atmosphere lightens. “I will handle it just fine. And who is _your_ date, Sans?”

Sans’ grin immediately drops to more of a grimace, and he rubs the back of his skull awkwardly. Toriel catches his look, and she gasps.

“You don’t have a date?!”

“i _do,”_ he retorts, and his shoulders heave as he sighs. “it’s oria.” Toriel gives him a sympathetic ‘oh’ as Sans’ expression sours. “Oria, the little lamb? Your _ex?”_ Sans grumbles under his breath. “What happened to your pride, _‘Sansy-boy’_?”

“dropped  it on my way to the party,” he growls, tugging uncomfortably at his tie. “and she ain’t no lamb. i’m still convinced she’s secretly part wolf.” Toriel covers her smile, and shakes her head disapprovingly at Sans. “Why didn’t you just bring your new girlfriend?”

“no human dates. asgore’s rules.” Toriel’s eyes darken a little.

“I see. I do wish Asgore would stop hiding behind ambassadors and do his job. Hiding behind excuses, in general.” Sans shifts uncomfortable at Toriel’s steely voice, and he jabs his thumb over his shoulder.

“welp, i gotta go. catch ya later, tori.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Toriel reminds him anxiously.

“yes ma’am.” He backs out of the door, and shuts it behind him.

Toriel lets out a loose, shaky sigh, and her eyes drift to Jun, who has cleared off an impressive quarter of the entire pie. She chuckles, settling herself on the chair next to him.

 “Well, just you and me, Jun.”

Jun slurps at the rest of his tea, and sets it down with a satisfied sigh. Toriel chuckles at his sated face, and dabs at his mouth with a napkin. Jun turns, surprised at her soft touch, and appraises her with his blank gaze. Toriel is unfazed by his stare, and continues to wipe the crumbs off his cheeks.

“Is Frisk really a human?”

She pauses, regarding his sudden question with surprise. “Of course, my child. He fell into the underground from the surface.” She shakes her head. “You mustn't listen to the false theories about Frisk’s origin on the Internet.”

“How do you know for sure?” Jun’s voice isn’t accusing, just quiet and curious. _He’s always curious about everything,_ Toriel thinks fondly. He’d listened intently to her read the entire book of snail facts, though Frisk can barely last through a couple of pages before he starts snoring or whining. Sometimes she thinks Jun isn’t listening at all, what with his dazed, blank look, but he’d pipe up with a sudden fact about snails and Toriel’s heart would soar.

“Well, Frisk is my child,” she begins. “I know all my children well.”

“How?” She can’t help but smile at his eagerness for details. He’s going to make such a wonderful student.

"I know, because I’ve seen his soul. Human souls are very different from monsters. They’re shaped like an upright heart.” She traces it out on his palm. “And they all have different colors, depending on what kind of human they are.” Jun tilts his head, listening. “A monster’s soul is a little upside down heart. They don’t have any color.”

“What does my soul look like? Can you see?” She knew this question was going to come, but it still makes her uneasy.

“Monsters only see a human’s soul during a fight. A confrontation, of sorts. It is very dangerous to pull out a human soul for no reason.”

Jun makes a little pout, and tugs on her sleeve. “I trust you. Can’t you just take a peek? Humans who can use magic are strange, right? I just wanna know if I’m okay,” he pleads. Toriel releases the breath she holds, and tousles his hair.

 “Alright, alright. Just for a second, to see if you’re okay. But you can’t do this with any other monster, you hear? They may not be quite as experienced in handling souls. One wrong move, and you could end up dead.”

“Okay,” Jun chirps, gazing up at her expectantly. Toriel frowns, not sure if he really understood the gravity of the situation.

“Okay.” She presses her palm against him, and her large paw almost covers the entirety of his chest. “Just relax.” She doesn’t know if she’s saying it for Jun, or herself.

 

Jun’s magic is cold. It feels like Toriel is sticking her hand into the freezer. She can feel his soul gravitating towards her, icy tendrils reaching for her warm magic. Carefully, slowly, she pulls his soul out of his chest, guiding it into the air, bit by bit. The light from his soul is weak, but it is not unusual for humans with darker colors. “Keep breathing,” she murmurs, patiently tugging.

It emerges fully, hovering in the air, but Toriel blinks twice like she’s staring at a mirage.

Her chair falls as she takes a step back, her brown eyes widening in horror.

“O-Oh. Oh, my child,” she whispers brokenly, one hand clutched against her chest. Jun curls up on the chair, startled at the sudden noise.

 His soul (if it can even be called a soul) floats in the air. It’s disfigured beyond recognition, like a puzzle pieced together by someone who’s never seen the original picture.  Half of it looks like the remains of a human soul. It’s a dirty burgundy, the glow flickering on and off like it’s about to be extinguished at any moment. The other half of his soul is...upside down. A monster’s soul, pale and faded. There are so many spiderweb cracks running through both souls, it’s almost amazing that it hasn’t fallen apart. Jun’s magic holds it together, the black, oily substance oozing through the cracks and holding the trembling pieces together, trying to form one misshapen heart. Half of an upright heart, the other half upside down, forced together. Contorted. Deformed.

 Toriel feels the bile rise up in her throat, and she claps her hand over her mouth before she can throw up.

“What’s wrong?” Jun’s frightened voice reaches her, and she tries to steady herself for his sake. With trembling fingers, she pushes his soul back into his chest. She winces as the quivering soul disappears into Jun, and she picks up the chair shakily, sitting down in it with a heavy thump.

“Toriel?”

“Oh, Jun,” she murmurs softly. “Who has done this to you?”

“...Toriel? I don’t understand.”

She gathers the frightened child into her arms, holding him as she stares blankly out the kitchen window. “Neither do I. Do not worry, my child,” she murmurs, rocking him instinctively. “I think I know someone who might understand.”

 _________________________________________________

  
The party is in full swing by the time Sans is there. The ballroom is full of cheer and laughter, glasses clinking and gold silk drapes gleaming in the soft light. The air is lightly scented with the smell of fresh freesias, and he can see Greater Dog waltzing a delighted human in a chiffon blue gown. It reminds him of you, and the date that seems like eons ago right now.

He tries to stay still when Oria rests her little hand in the crook of his elbow, her big brown eyes shining as she eyes the entrance to the ballroom.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she sighs, squeezing Sans’ arm. “It’s been so long since we danced together, Sansy.”

He tries not to grimace at the nickname. “guesso. but we’re not here to have fun. keep your eyes open, eh?” Oria wrinkles her little nose up at him, pink lips pursed in a frown. “You don’t have to be such a spoilsport, Sans. Would one dance kill you?”

“i’m just sayin’. humans might advantage of a big party like this.”

“For goodness sake’s, Sansy. Their own kind are here as well. I don’t think they’ll really try anything with the ambassador in our midst.” She tries to drag him forward, but he stands firmly in his spot, unmoving. _It’s funny,_ he muses distantly. _If someone were to take a picture right now, it would describe this damned relationship perfectly._

 “Sans!” She gives him an all-too-familiar, exasperated look, folding her arms over her chest. He stares past her head. “Stop wasting time, please. Let’s just go.” Her gaze softens a little, and she touches his arm gently. “Don’t be scared, humans aren’t as bad as you think. I’m right here with you, okay?”

“i ain’t scared,” he lies. “and if humans are so good, we all wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh my god. You _know_ what I mean!”

“i’m just lookin’ out for ya, ori-”

 _“No,_ you’re not!! You’re just a big cowardly bonehead who’s trying to hide from everything!”

“cowardly? says the one sittin’ in an office all day while i patrol the entire goddamned city.”

“Oh yeah? Says the one too scared to go in, because you’re afraid to actually change things! Because every human treats us the same, so why bother, right? Why bother to have fun, or to talk to them, or to put in any darned effort at all for our future?!”

Oria’s pretty white curls are in a tizzy, her lace-gloved hands clenched tightly at her sides. The monsters entering the ballroom are giving them a wide berth, diverting their curious gazes. Her face flushes pink as she notices the others, and she deflates, giving a defeated laugh. Sans can’t hide his grimace now.

“Two minutes, and we’ve already started fighting. We haven’t even gone in.”

“one minute fifty seconds.”

She gives him a weak glare, smoothing her curls back. “Seriously?” She jabs a finger at him, and he leans back slightly. “Don’t talk to me after I’ve had two drinks. I know Asgore expects us to be a happy couple tonight, and I can’t do this fully sober.”

“i don’t think the complimentary champagne can hold you tonigh-”

“Zip!” she shrieks, miming zipping her lips, and the monster passing her jumps nearly two feet in the air. Her face flushes, and she turns on her heel, marching into the ballroom alone. Sans drags his hand down his face, groaning.

It’s going to be a long night.

 

He eventually makes his way in five minutes after Oria, and picks a glass of champagne immediately off the waiter’s tray. He can see Oria’s white curls in the corner, chatting animatedly with the ambassador and a couple of other humans, charmed by her sweet demeanor and pretty face. He snorts at the empty champagne glass she holds casually behind her.

Muffet’s buffet table is lined up with the prettiest treats, right next to Mettaton’s overpriced hors d'oeuvres. Burgerpants is minding the booth for that, almost biting his nails off as he vibrates anxiously in his suit. Sans empathises with him.

“heya, buddy. you’re not out enjoying the party?” Burgerpants glances nervously around, and offers Sans a small glass cup of strange looking stuff arranged in the shape of Mettaton’s face. He takes it gingerly, and puts it back without Burgerpants noticing.

“Nope, not tonight!!” He gives a hysterical laugh. “I never seem to get a break, huh?! N-Not that I need any,” he continues, his gaze darting around warily. Sans chuckles wearily, and pats his shoulder.

“It...It ain’t all that bad, though!” Burgerpants whispers confidentially. “I get to wear something nice, and the girl in Grillby’s booth said I looked good.” Sans raises a brow bone.  
“ya mean a human drinkin’ from grillby’s booth?”

 Burgerpants shakes his head, clutching his tail in his hands. “N-Nah, she’s working there! Seems like Grillby hired a human temp!” The champagne glass’ stem snaps off in Sans’ hand. “I wish he’d hire me instead...I didn’t think he’d have the guts to get a huma-”

Sans doesn’t stop to listen, making a beeline straight for the makeshift bar in the corner. He sees you in your loose white button up, apron on and sleeves rolled up. Apparently you’ve discarded the stiff uniform everyone else is wearing in order to work better, but even then, you’re a lovely sight as you serve up a fresh platter of iced desserts, waving shyly at the monsters gathered around.

“Sans!” You spot him just in time, and you hold up his dessert cup, the smile on seeing him already splitting your face. He leans on the booth, his thoughts scrambled as he stares down at your sweet, expectant smile. Your own thoughts are scrambled, eyes dragging down the tailored, velvet-edged suit that emphasises on his broad shoulders and tapers down his body nicely. Is that suit his? Could he wear it for you every day?

 “whataya doing here?” God, is his voice deeper today or is it just your imagination? “where’s grillbz?”

“Not even a hi?” You slide the cup onto the counter, trying not to look at him directly. “I worked so hard to make you this! I didn’t know if you liked sweets, so…” You stick a spoon in it. “It’s tomato sauce and melted cheese inside a toasted pastry puff!” You patter your fingertips against the counter, waiting for his verdict. At your disappointed pout, he straightens up almost immediately and obediently spoons the pastry into his mouth.

“hhh-hot.” He tries to fan his mouth discreetly, and you hide your giggle behind your palm. He gives you a weak glare, and you dare to stick your tongue out at him a little.

“I didn’t tell you to eat it so quickly.”

“yeah well, let’s wait for it to cool before it burns off my tastebuds.” He sets it aside, and tries to get back onto the topic on hand. “ya shouldn’t be here, doll. it’s not safe.”

“Why not?” You tilt your head, confused. “Grillby said it’d be okay… Unless there’s something going wrong?” Sans tries not to chuckle at how adorably you duck under the counter, looking nervous.

 “not right now. but i don’t trust so many humans turning up for just a _party.”_ Sans leans against the bar casually, gazing over the sea of people. The number of humans were increasingly outnumbering the monsters, and Sans was getting warier by the minute. “a human appearing to be on the side of a monster, working for a monster, can’t be good for anyone. especially you.”

“Oh,” you squeak, feeling your heart pounding. The excitement of the glamourous party fades quickly enough, and you twist your apron in your hands anxiously. “W-What should I do?”

“ya should get out of here. i’ll tell grillby. i can’t believe he let you stay here alone,” he grumbles, quirking his finger at you. “c’mere, doll. ya got a ride? i’ll give you a shortcut back home.”

 

_“Sansy!”_

His fingers twitch in midair, and he stuffs them back into his pocket, turning just in time for Oria to latch herself onto his arm. He narrows his eyes as she gives a little hiccup, clearly half-tipsy. She smiles up at him dreamily.

“Asgore is waiting for us, Sansy. He wants to introduce us, c’mon.” He sees the group of humans watching, waiting for them, just within earshot. He bares his usual, easy grin, leaning down to give Oria an affectionate, familiar nudge, his hand circling around her waist, trying to turn her around. “just gimmie a moment, babe. i gotta take care of something.”

“What?” she says, a little too loudly, and he catches her before she starts to sway. Goddamnit. She peers around him, and frowns at you. “Stop bullying humans, Sansy, and come talk to someone your own size.”

“i’m not botherin’ her,” he hisses through his lazy grin, and props her up, steering her towards the direction of their waiting guests. He gives them a little wave, and adds a little louder, “just chat with the gentlemen for a moment, babe, i’ll be right there. just gettin’ the drinks.”

 He exhales lowly as she finally totters her way over to them, and he turns, almost jumping when he realises you’re right next to him. You release the apron you’re clutching, feeling partially amused and partially full of indignation.

 _“Babe?”_ You lift a brow, folding your arms across your chest. His eyes widen as his gaze darts between you and Oria, starting to piece things together. You jerk your chin towards the little laughing lamb. “Is that why you wanted me to leave?” His grin finally drops. “Because everyone else seems to be having fun, _Sansy.”_

“doll, it’s not what you think-” He reaches out for you, and you sidestep him quickly, eyes narrowed. His fingers falter in the air, and retreat to hide in his pocket. You’re starting to attract curious glances, and you release your apron, putting it on again.

“Outside,” you whisper. He nods stiffly.

 You both walk off in separate directions, blending into the party. Your booth is stocked for now, so it shouldn’t matter for at least another hour. Ducking outside, you breathe in the cool evening breeze. It disappears as Sans appears behind you, looking nervous. It’s almost cute how he shifts from foot to foot, a giant monster three times your size, looking thoroughly intimidated. _Almost._ You fight to keep the frown on your face.

“Explain.”

“we were told to bring dates,” he blurts, like he’s been dying for your permission to speak. “asgore said we could only bring fellow monsters, that’s why, uh, i didn’t ask ya, doll.” He tugs at his collar anxiously. “ya know i’d ask ya, right?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me anything,” you retort, and you bite your lip so you wouldn’t laugh when Sans’ head jerks up, looking lost.  
“i, uh, i might have forgotten that part. it was kinda last minute.”

“So who is she?”

“a...a friend.” His eyes shift sideways, and you’re not sure if he’s bad at lying to you, or just bad at lying in general.

“Lying is only going to make things worse, Sans.” He gulps, and tugs at his collar again.

 “previous partner.” His voice is almost a mumble.

“What’s that?”

“my _previous partner.”_

“So your ex.”

He crumples, defeated. “yeah. but we’re just...fakin’ it for the party this time, i swear. she hates my guts less only after a couple o’drinks.”

“And after a couple of drinks she’s in love all over again, it seems!” You jab your finger against his chest, but it feels like poking a cushioned brick wall. “You dirty Casanova, don’t think just because you look so damn hot and fancy in that suit means you can throw girls around like-”

“didja say i was hot?” Sans’ grin is full blown, smug and wide. “ya did, didn’t ya?”

“Aghh!” You throw your hands in the air in exasperation. “Did you even hear a word I said?!” You shove him with both hands, and he catches your wrists, looking pleased.

“i heard you say ‘you look so damn hot’ and i didn’t catch anything after that,” Sans purrs, leaning down and guiding your hands around his neck. He buries his face into your shoulder, and you feel the warm breath of his exhalation against your skin.

 “i’m sorry.”

You cling to his shoulders, surprised at his sudden solemn apology. He sounds tired, but sincere, and you let him lift you into his arms, your legs curling loosely around his waist so he can hold you better. It almost seems surreal that you’re fighting over this when the world is at war, but it feels so good to be normal for once, to fight over something so insignificant compared to their problems, so that the false sense of normalcy can soak into your skin.

“can i kiss it better?”  
  
“I think you’ve lost your kissing privileges for the week.” He makes a muffled, mournful sound, and you grin.

His phone buzzes suddenly against your thigh, and the moment is broken.

“Sans,” you murmur, and he groans into your shoulder. “Your phone is ringing.”

“just lemme hold you for a second more.” His gruff whisper melts you all over again, and you let yourself succumb to it until the buzzing really starts to irritate you.

 “Sans.”

“i gotcha.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, and presses it to the side of his skull. You hide your smile. How does that even work? He doesn’t have any ears.

“‘ello?” He stiffens as the voice rings out from the phone, high and panicky. He doesn’t put you down, but backs up until your back is pressed against the wall, and his broad shoulders cover you entirely from view.

“hey, tori, it’s okay, it’s okay.” His brow is furrowed tight, and you press your hand against his cheek in concern. His gaze lifts to you for a moment. “yeah, yeah she’s with me. i’ll send her over. i’ll take a shortcut. uh huh. you be careful too.”

He slides the phone back into his pocket, and gives you a weary grin.

“it’s jun.” Your heart thumps all the way to your feet, and you gape at him.

“What?! Is he hurt?”

“nah. but he’s not in the best position. let’s get ya over there, pronto.” He hitches you more securely against him, and you feel the edges of the void yawning beneath his feet.

  
“doctor alphys is asking for ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this was kinda late! i was caught up with a sudden idea for a new fic and it just ate me up. (*ﾟｰﾟ*)  
> it's underswap!pap/reader, with reader being a cursed descendant of one of the seven mages. i wonder if you guys would be interested in reading that one, though! (*´∀`*)


	16. the color of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i'm so so so sorry that this is late, but life has been getting in the way! anyhoo, here it is~

**[On The Previous Chapter: the color of disenchantment]**  
  
_“Sans,” you murmur, and he groans into your shoulder. “Your phone is ringing.”_

_“just lemme hold you for a second more.” His gruff whisper melts you all over again, and you let yourself succumb to it until the buzzing really starts to irritate you._

_“Sans.”_

_“i gotcha.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, and presses it to the side of his skull. You hide your smile. How does that even work? He doesn’t have any ears._

_“‘ello?” He stiffens as the voice rings out from the phone, high and panicky. He doesn’t put you down, but backs up until your back is pressed against the wall, and his broad shoulders cover you entirely from view._

_“hey, tori, it’s okay, it’s okay.” His brow is furrowed tight, and you press your hand against his cheek in concern. His gaze lifts to you for a moment. “yeah, yeah she’s with me. i’ll send her over. i’ll take a shortcut. uh huh. you be careful too.”_

_He slides the phone back into his pocket, and gives you a weary grin._

_“it’s jun.” Your heart thumps all the way to your feet, and you gape at him._

_“What?! Is he hurt?”_

_“nah. but he’s not in the best position. let’s get ya over there, pronto.” He hitches you more securely against him, and you feel the edges of the void yawning beneath his feet._

  
_“doctor alphys is asking for ya.”_

* * *

 

 

The laboratory is cold and uninviting. It smells like strong, repelling disinfectant. Or maybe you’re just too full of fear and anxiety. Maybe, in a different scenario, receiving different news, you might associate the smell of disinfectant with pleasant emotions.

But right now, it stinks.

 

“alphys.” Sans’ quiet rumble fits in with the low humming of the lab, and you press into his side for comfort, glancing around for the doctor he's calling for. He doesn't seem to mind, his arm curling around your waist and pulling you closer. There's a rustle of papers, and a little reptilian head peeps out from behind a large stack of books. A pair of thick, round glasses are balanced on her snout, making her eyes magnified and owlish.

“S-Sans! You're here a-already? I-I expected you to be a little later, b-but that's okay.” She emerges from behind the desk, carrying a stack of files, but her large feet trip on the mess of wiring on the floor. Files and papers fly everywhere, and at the sight of her teary, flustered state, you hurry over to help gather them up.

The moment her scaled hand touches yours, she flinches back, probably on instinct. You give her a wry smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” You hand her the stack of papers. She hitches her glasses up and peers over at you, accepting your offer of help. “O-oh. You must be J-Jun’s guardian. H-Hi, I'm Doctor Alphys.”

 

Her nervous shifting and gentle demeanour makes you feel more at ease somehow. She doesn't seem threatening in the least. The stack of files in your hands glow blue, and they're lifted into the air and straight into Sans’ hands.

“Sans!” Alphys scolds, getting to her feet. “Those are p-personal patient files!”

“chill, al’. i know about patient confidentiality.” He flips them open, scanning the files quickly.

Alphys gives an irritated huff, but she softens as she turns to you. “C-Calling you here on such s-short notice m-must have worried you a lot.”

“Where’s Jun? Is he hurt?” You catch a glimpse of him through a large window that leads to a separate room, where Toriel is sitting on a hospital bed, holding him on her lap. You press yourself up against the glass, but Toriel’s back is turned to you. All you can see is his fluffy white hair on Toriel’s shoulder, his body slumped as if he’s sleeping. Alphys hesitates before she answers.

“Y-Yes...and no.” She hitches the glasses more securely on her snout. “W-What do you know about s-souls?”

“Souls?” you blurt, getting even more confused. “Like...the spirit of a dead person?”

“more like the culmination of a person’s being.” Sans snaps the file shut, tossing it carelessly onto the already toppling pile on Alphys’ desk. “everything you are, emotionally and physically, is represented in a soul.”

“H-Humans usually can’t visualise it,” Alphys says quickly, catching onto your perplexed look. “O-Only in a confrontation with another monster, o-or when a monster pulls your soul forth from your body, will a human be able to see it.” Horror strikes you like lightning when you make the connection. “Then, Jun has been in a fight with a monster?! His soul’s hurt, or...or damaged?!” Alphys hurries to calm you, her small hands holding your wrists firmly.

“He hasn’t been in a f-fight. B-But his soul seems to have s-sustained damage o-over time.” She pulls out a sheet of paper with three pixelated diagrams. The one on the right is an upright heart, coloured a bright primary red. The one on the left is an inverted white heart.

The one in the middle disturbs you the most, half of it the upright heart, the other half the inverted. Multiple cracks run through both of them, glued together unnaturally like a haphazard paper collage. As Alphys explains the souls, you can’t help but run your finger over the cracks on the laminated paper. It looks terrible, to say the least.

 

“Why is Jun’s soul...like this?”

“We were h-hoping you’d be able to answer that.” She fidgets in place anxiously. “F-From what I-I can see, the soul was d-damaged over a v-very long period of time.” She traces her claw over the tattered centre. Your throat tightens painfully as you think of the first time you saw Jun, standing barefooted next to the dumpster, with only a hospital gown hanging off his thin shoulders. “I don’t know,” you whisper, twisting your apron out of anxious habit. “I didn’t...I only found him when he was already a child.” You perk up, remembering something. “H-He’d get sick a lot with the flu, and burn up pretty hot, do you think that’s how-”

“H-How long did his sickness last?”

“He’d usually recover in about a week. But still, he was sick really often, and I never could afford any medicine for him.”

Alphys shakes her head. “I-It has t-to be more damage than that. H-His blindness is a-also s-strange, don’t you think?” You falter when she turns to you. You honestly don’t have a clue.

“how so?” Sans prompts as you freeze in place helplessly, trying to recall everything you knew about Jun. But all that’s coming up are the various things he likes, from fries to movies to books to jokes, but nothing about himself. Nothing about where he came from. He doesn’t remember anything before the alleyway and you.

Or he does, and he’s been keeping secrets from the start.

You shake your head furiously. This isn’t the time to doubt Jun.

 

“H-His eyes seem to have b-been blinded on p-purpose.” There’s a rustling as Alphys draws out another diagram. It seems to be an x-Ray of Jun’s brain and eyes, but you can't really make heads or tails of what the diagram is supposed to mean. “F-From a core scan, I-I found a high concentration of pure determination.” Sans stiffens, and you lift your head. “Especially in h-his eyes.”  

“so what’s your theory?”

“F-For a human soul to be m-merged with a m-monster soul like this...it has to be c-created from scratch.”

“i said, what’s your _theory?”_

Alphys narrows her eyes at his impatient tone, and she turns to face Sans, head lifted with all the air of a professional.

“T-The child might n-not really be a h-human.” She shifts her glasses again. “W-When I attempted to draw a blood sample f-from him, he d-didn’t bleed like other h-humans do.” Your breath hitches in your throat. “M-My theory, derived from the high concentration of determination in his body and the state of his soul, is that he an artificial fusion, made in an attempt to create something else.”

“What does that mean?” you whisper hoarsely, taking a step towards Alphys. “What does that mean, he's an artificial fusion?” Jun is not human? That’s too incredulous, too big of a plot twist. Something straight out of a storybook. How can she say that so confidently, in just a few hours with him?

“to create something like what?” Sans’ voice has gone dangerously soft, even though his hand on your hip is still gentle. Alphys is unfazed by it. She seems to stutter less, too.

“I can’t reach a confirmed conclusion. There are t-too many holes. I-I was hoping you’d know something more, but I think you have even less of an idea than us.” She nods at you kindly, almost apologetically, but you feel lost and panicky all of a sudden with just how much you _don’t_ know. “B-But since his magic has links to Dr. Gaster, I-I presume-”

“If Dr. Gaster even exists now-”  
“W-We have proof of his records, that he existed,” Alphys snaps, annoyed at being interrupted. “From what he u-used to work on, and the s-state of this soul, I can assume he was trying to create a-an artificial soul.” She turns to you again. “When did you find the child?”

“F-Few years ago, a few months after monsters, I mean, you guys, came onto the surface.”

“the first year of the war,” Sans notes quietly.

“I t-think Dr. Gaster was aware of everything that was going on, even in his presumed death. Dr. Gaster was our head scientist in the underground,” Alphys explains to you, “but one day, he disappeared without a trace. The only evidence we had of him were drawn pictures and old written records.” Sans’ grip on you loosens, and his hand falls limply to his side. “But his dust was never found, so we cannot confirm his death.”

“dust can float and fly anywhere,” Sans remarks, but the wind seems to have gone out of him.

“If anything, Jun is a strong indication that Dr. Gaster is not dead. He remembers the old scientist, and has large traces of magical residue similar to him.” Alphys paces as she explains, not even a stutter in her solemn tone. “The damage on the child’s soul has to be inflicted continuously over a long time, years at least. That means that Gaster had this child long before the barrier was broken. From the way he... _experimented,_ and with the state of the souls, he could have been trying to create artificial souls.”

“artificial souls strong enough to break the barrier,” Sans concludes, and he quirks a brow bone. “but we have no proof.”

“I think my theory is pretty solid,” Alphys retorts confidently, but the grave look in her eyes shows how much she hopes Sans is going to prove her wrong.

“even so.” Sans’ shoulders are hunched over, his face perfectly blank as he thinks. His voice is smooth, methodical and toneless without a hint of a drawl. “that doesn’t explain how he had access to the surface to get a human before the barrier was broken. none of the souls from the fallen humans were taken. doesn’t explain how he merged those souls. or how he created a human-like host like Jun to house the souls.” He’s tucked his hands into his pockets, his usual defensive move, and the lights are missing from his eye sockets. “who was the monster and human that he took the souls from?”

 

The low humming in the lab seems deafening now that no one is speaking. No one has any answers for Sans’ questions. You stare at Toriel and Jun through the window, where she’s smoothing his hair back continuously with her large paw, rocking him gently. He looks even tinier and more vulnerable in Toriel’s arms.

It doesn’t matter, you decide instantly. It doesn’t matter whether Jun is monster or human or nothing anyone can comprehend.

He’s still family. Even though you don’t know much about what happened to him, you’ve known him longer, more than anyone in here does. And that’s enough. That’s enough.

The only thing that matters is that he’s going to be okay.  

He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?

“T-That depends.” Oh. You hadn’t realised you’d said the last thought out loud. Alphys’ hands are clasped tightly together, her brow furrowed in worry. “As you can s-see, the state of his soul is very unstable. I-If it c-continues to exist as i-it is, h-his life expectancy w-would only o-only be a f-few more m-months, at most. It’s a miracle he’s g-gone on so long as it is.”

“Few _months?”_ you echo. The disinfectant smell suffocates you. It’s so hard to breathe in here, and your eyes are stinging with the horrid stench. “O-Oh, oh man,” you mutter, wiping roughly at your face so the disinfectant wouldn’t bother your eyes and nose so much, but it doesn’t seem to go away. Your throat still feels thick, and your nose is pinching and stinging. Your eyes water, and you cover them, not wanting Dr. Alphys to see your ugly sniffing. “I-I think I’m allergic to something in your lab.” You scrub furiously at your face. “Some...some chemical smells really bad.”

“C-Chemical?” Alphys wrinkles her snout, confused. “I d-don’t...we d-don’t use any chemicals here. This is the p-paperwork office.”

“R-Really?” you blurt, trying to laugh it off, but it comes off a little higher-pitched than you thought it would. “Because it’s, ah, getting a little hard to breathe i-in here, I-I don’t know-”

 

Something presses into your back, and you can hear Sans mutter something to Alphys, his voice a low, rumbly murmur. The void unfolds under your feet, and the pull of it almost makes you throw up right there. Thankfully, you’re able to hold it back until Sans settles you carefully on the edge of the bed. You blink at the sudden change of surroundings, and at Sans when he sits next to you, looking worried.

“how ya feelin’, doll?” His hand combs through your hair, pushing it back. The moisture sliding across your forehead surprises you; you didn’t realise you were sweating.  

“I’m having an allergic reaction t-to disinfectant,” you conclude breathlessly, your voice still squeaky and on edge. “F-Feels like my throat swelled up, a-and m-my heart is going too fast.” Sans furrows his brow bones, his mouth in a tight grimace. He opens his arms invitingly, and before you know it, you’ve automatically crawled over onto his lap, burying your face into the fur of his coat. The scent of smoke and ash floods your senses, getting rid of the sharp stench of disinfectant, and your breathing seems to flow a little easier.

Sans wraps his arms around your waist carefully, bony fingers rubbing small, soothing circles into your back. Your breath stutters, and he lifts your chin, pressing his forehead against yours. The cool, smooth contact of bone against your flushed, sweaty skin is comforting.

“isskay, doll, i’ve got ya,” he croons, the low tenor of his voice rumbling through you. “i’ve got ya, babydoll.”

You don’t know how long you lie there, your breath ruffling the fur on his coat, your heart pounding slow and easy against his ribs. _He’s pretty strong,_ you muse distantly, _for him to hold you up against him for so long._

You sigh, and he stirs a little, his grip on you shifting. “feelin’ better?”

You lift yourself, feeling like your body is filled with lead. You settle yourself higher on his lap, but even so you have to tilt your head up so he can nudge his cheek against yours. He turns his head unexpectedly and your mouths brush together in an accidental kiss. Your heart stutters as he deepens it, pulling you closer by your thighs, and you jerk away.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your hand fluttering to your chest. He’s staring at you anxiously. “My heart just started beating really fast again.”

His eyes widens in surprise for a moment, before a blue glow spreads across his cheekbones and he starts to laugh.

“I’m not kidding,” you insist, lifting his hand from your thigh and pressing it against your chest. “It’s really fast.”

“yeah, i don’t doubt that.” He gives you a shit-eating grin, and buries his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his relieved chuckles into your skin. “what am i gonna do with ya, doll?”

You feel a little bad for suddenly breaking the kiss, and you wrap your arms around his neck, patting his skull softly. “Well, you can kiss me again.”

“what if i make your heart race again, hmm?” You can tell he’s teasing you, but at this point,  you’re far beyond it to care. “It feels better than just now,” you say honestly, and he lifts his head, giving you a curious look.

“course it’d be better than a panic attack.”

“How did you know I was having a panic attack?”

“Alphys used to get them a lot.” Sans winds your fingers with his, and brushes a kiss to your knuckles, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “I learnt how to help with them.”

“Oohhh.” You wrench your hand out of his playfully, folding your arms across your chest. “So you learnt to do this with her too, huh?” He gives you a lost, hurt look, and pokes at your crossed arms.

“just breathing exercises. yours is more personal, i promise.” He gives you such an earnest look you struggle to keep a straight face.

“Really?”

“really.”

You loop your arms around his neck loosely, and he gives you such a dopey grin it makes you smile back at him. You lean forward for a kiss, and he does too, his eyes shutting expectantly. You hesitate, and decide to go for his forehead instead. He gives a disappointed grumble at the loud smacking kiss on his forehead, and tugs you to him so quickly you fall right into his arms.

 

“Don’t you have to go back to the party?” you remind him, even as you snuggle deeper under his chin. He makes a disapproving sound.

 

“dr. alphys called me in for an emergency. asgore will understand.” You tense up at Alphys’ name, and you cling to Sans tightly even as your heart threatens to drag you under.

“What am I going to do?” you whisper. “Jun is going to die.”

The fact, said aloud, should have sent you into a panic, but you’re so exhausted now that all you feel is blank, resigned emptiness. Sans tightens his grip on you, and you feel a kiss dropped on the top of your head.

 

“alphys is a good scientist. once she has the pieces figured out, i think we can find out how to make him better.”

“You really think so?”

“yeah.” Sans’ voice is quiet, but he doesn’t seem like he’s lying.

There’s a lull in the conversation then, the both of you enjoying the warmth of each other’s company. But you’re both wrapped up in your individual pondering too, and even though no one is speaking, the air is heavy with thought.

“Sans?” He grunts in reply.

“what does my soul look like?”

You can feel him tensing up, before he relaxes and his hand comes up to brush your hair back, petting your head.  
“don’t know. takes effort to look.” You snort at his excuse.  
“Lazybones.”

“guilty as charged.”

“I want to see it, though.” You sit up on his lap, turning to face him. He looks away, eyes lowering.

“it’s too dangerous, doll. i don’t want to hurt you.”

“I trust you,” you insist, eyes wide as you run your hands up his broad chest to squeeze at his shoulders. _“Please,_ Sans.” He groans, eyes shutting. This really isn’t fair.

“ya should know, to draw a soul out without malicious intent is a scandalous affair for monsters,” he purrs, trying to put you off. His eyes are half-lidded, and his tongue flickers out momentarily to lick across his teeth. “so be careful what you’re tryna insinuate here, doll.”

“I know perfectly well,” you retort, shoving at his shoulder. “Just a peek.”

“tease,” Sans drawls lazily, but there’s a hint of uneasiness in his eyes. He makes a big show of sitting up, groaning like his bones hurt.

You perch on his lap expectantly, and he hides his nervousness behind his grin.

“don’t move an inch, ya hear.”

“yessir.”

He sighs, and his hand hovers over your chest. It glows with a pulsing blue light, and there’s a weird sensation of something deep inside your chest moving, pulling and gravitating towards Sans’ hand. You blink as it exits your chest, leaving behind an emptiness. You shiver at the sensation, but it’s just strange, not unpleasant.

 

Sans cradles a cutesy looking little heart in the palm of his hand. It hovers, looking vulnerable and small in his large palm. The blue glow fades away, and you can hear Sans’ breath hitch.

From what Alphys explained, human souls were in all sorts of bright colours, depending on a person’s being.

“So...why does it look like that?”

Your soul is an ashen grey, hardly a hint of a glow. It’s empty, translucent and paper-thin, the light grey of a pigeon feather, of washed out concrete, of nothing. Even Jun’s soul shines brighter than yours.

“Is it supposed to look like that?”

Sans is silent, and his eyes are blank. As promised, you’re not moving, but Sans’ expression is worrying you.

“i don’t know,” Sans says harshly, and the hand cradling your fragile soul trembles. “there isn’t a color, i don’t understand, how can a living soul be this faded, the probabilities of thi-” He’s muttering to himself agitatedly, and you stay very still as he guides it back into your chest. But even as he comes closer, you lean back, feeling odd as your chest absorbs the soul and the emptiness is filled.

Sans is right. It’s nothing, barely a shade of a color, barely anything at all. It’s a shadow of a soul. So what does that mean, when your soul doesn’t have even shine, doesn’t look like it’s alive? The grainy texture of its surface reminds you of the television screen when it disconnects, pale and muted and dead. Like the color of a cracked pavement, the color of disappearing smoke, the color monsters turn into as they fade away.

The color of dust.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop we've come full circle, with the title in the story! was anyone expecting it to be something else ahaha.
> 
> p.s. how do people handle writing multiple fics at once i'm like all over the place with 2 fics i can't seem to do regular updates as much fookin' hell  
> p.p.s. sometimes i'm really late because i edit shit that no one will really notice (like not repeating the same word twice in a paragraph) and i have to close my eyes and force myself to update because if i keep changing i will never ever update.. i take a few days to write and a few years to edit (U n U) still i will keep working hard!!!! next up is the pap story update wooo


	17. the color of nothingness

**on the last chapter:**

From what Alphys explained, human souls were in all sorts of bright colours, depending on a person’s being.

“So...why does it look like that?”

Your soul is an ashen grey, hardly a hint of a glow. It’s empty, translucent and paper-thin, the light grey of a pigeon feather, of washed out concrete, of nothing. Even Jun’s soul shines brighter than yours.

“Is it supposed to look like that?”

Sans is silent, and his eyes are blank. As promised, you’re not moving, but Sans’ expression is worrying you.

“i don’t know,” Sans says harshly, and the hand cradling your fragile soul trembles. “there isn’t a color, i don’t understand, how can a living soul be this faded, the probabilities of thi-” He’s muttering to himself agitatedly, and you stay very still as he guides it back into your chest. But even as he comes closer, you lean back, feeling odd as your chest absorbs the soul and the emptiness is filled.

Sans is right. It’s nothing, barely a shade of a color, barely anything at all. It’s a shadow of a soul. So what does that mean, when your soul doesn’t have even shine, doesn’t look like it’s alive? The grainy texture of its surface reminds you of the television screen when it disconnects, pale and muted and dead. Like the color of a cracked pavement, the color of disappearing smoke, the color monsters turn into as they fade away.

The color of dust.

* * *

 

 

After a week of constant night observations, Jun is finally released from the laboratory’s hospital.

Unfortunately, you don’t have that much time to visit him in between your work breaks, but Toriel and Frisk have been keeping Jun company. Toriel swings by each day to update you on how spirited Jun is, though his soul doesn’t seem to be responding to any of the treatments that Alphys has made for him. He’s happy to be in the laboratory even so, because Alphys is there to ever-so patiently answer his multitude of questions.

You’re grateful that every monster you’ve met so far so warm and kind to both you and your small family. But being in the centre of it all, having people you care for being constantly targeted and repressed, opens your eyes to how terrifying the war is.

You haven’t talked much to Sans since the discovery of your own soul. He was uneasy, almost unhinged at the edges if you were blunt about it. Though you tried to change the subject and make him something to eat, he excused himself quickly and headed out of your apartment. You were sure you’d fucked it up after Sans answering your calls only for five minutes tops, and brushing you off for work even though Papyrus had time to consult you on a new spaghetti recipe.

Maybe this was really it. The rejection stung, even though Sans didn’t exactly reject you outright, but his behaviour was more than obvious. You shake your head vehemently. You were going to give him a piece of your mind, if he thinks he can just shrug you off like that. Ugly soul or not.

 Despite not talking much to Sans for days, you leap up at Papyrus’ frantic call in the late afternoon, asking if Sans was at your place. Apparently he hasn’t been at his job much, either. What the hell was he even doing?

Papyrus and you manage to find him eventually, tipped off kindly by Alphys, in a run-down basement of an abandoned building just opposite of Alphys’ lab. He was snoring away on a worn sofa, looking like he was hit by a tornado of papers and books.  Clear, unlabelled glass bottles are scattered around the barren floor, and you would guess its alcohol, but you’re not really sure.

“OH, SANS. AGAIN?” Papyrus chides him, almost defeated, and easily hoists his brother over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Sans doesn’t even stir, his eyes tightly shut. You frown up at Papyrus.

“What do you mean, again?”

“HE USED TO WORK HIMSELF TO DEATH ON THIS SCIENCY STUFF MOST OF THE TIME WHILE WE WERE IN THE UNDERGROUND. LOOKING FOR GOD KNOWS WHAT.” Papyrus shifts him a little more securely on his broad shoulders, and opens the basement door for you like a gentleman. “THERE WAS ONCE WHEN HE DID IT OUT OF PASSION. HE USED TO TELL ME EVERYTHING HE LEARNT.” He glances balefully at the stack of papers left behind, and books piling over themselves, and the odd diagrams taped over the wall. “I DON’T REALLY UNDERSTAND THE DETAILS OF WHAT HE’S LOOKING FOR, BUT HE USED TO TRY TO EXPLAIN IT TO ME. NOW HE TRIES TO HIDE IT. BADLY.” Papyrus narrows his eyes, snorting, but he looks distant, the corners of his eye sockets slanted down sadly.

“I DO SO WISH HE’D TELL ME THINGS AGAIN.”

You gaze across the strewn room, the sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you probably knew what his crazed research was all about. “Me too,” you say. Running your hands through your greasy, after-work hair, you smile balefully at Papyrus. “Do you think I could stay for a while? I just want to take a look around.”

“SURE. TAKE YOUR TIME, I’LL GET THIS LAZYBONES HOME FIRST. I’LL COME BY AND PICK YOU UP LATER.”

“O-Oh, no, you don’t have to.”

“IT’S NO TROUBLE.” He cuts you off neatly, bending his great shoulders so he can fit both Sans and him through the small basement door. “I’LL SEE YOU IN AN HOUR.” He holds his hand up to his ear in a calling gesture, and grins at you. “CALL ME IF YOU NEED ME BEFORE THAT.”

He’s gone before you can protest again, and you can’t help but smile in his wake, grateful for his thoughtfulness. You sigh as you gaze at the organised mess, picking up a file on the stack closest to you.

‘Augmentation of the Different States of Determination’

Determination. That was what Alphys was talking about, wasn’t she? High concentrations of determintation blinded Jun’s eyes… It sounded all so strange to you. Wasn’t determination just a human attribute? How could it be described as something solid and measurable?

Then again, souls were an actual thing. You saw yours with your own eyes, didn’t you?

Sighing, you set the file down, flipping open another one.

“General Analysis of Human Souls,” you murmur to yourself, then grimace at the tiny words and multitude of numbers and letters in formations you don’t understand. You turn the page, and your breath freezes in your throat.

‘CASE STUDY 001’

“Case…study?” There is a little square photograph of a face, though it’s too blurred and pixelated to make out much of it. But you can tell it’s a woman, by her long, wavy hair and delicate features. There’s a cutesy green heart next to her face, which must be her soul. There’s a detailed analysis of the levels of determination and long, chemical-sounding names, but nothing of interest. You turn the page again, and it is stiff and heavy, packed with glued on photos. Your hand slaps your mouth shut so hard it hurts, but you can’t help muffling your gasp at the content of the old photographs.  The file slips from your hands, dropping onto the floor. The photographs slide out, a little faded but still pristine, proudly documenting Case Study 001’s gory remains.

Autopsies from every angle. Her dead body lying on a long, metal table, mouth open in quiet horror, dead eyes staring at nothing. Strange symbols are traced over it, drawn quick and angry with black markers, circling certain parts of her body. Several circles are repeatedly drawn over and over on her chest and her brain.

Shakily, you bend forward to open the file, trembling hands gathering the incriminating photos back into their original place. You can’t help but flip the pages again, eyes trying their best to skim over the photos of the dead bodies.

Six bodies. Some were children, some were not. What were they trying to do with those bodies? Who was doing this to them? Was Alphys part of this? Was that why she knew so much about human souls…? And you’d let Jun stay with her in her lab!

You rise to a stand, and follow the trail that Sans has scribbled over in pen, all over the walls. You picked out the words as you go, your finger tracing over the red lines he’s left behind on important text.

_“human souls are heavily pigmented”_

_“theory of the colors representing their core persona…”_

_“…the level of determination is yet again linked to the color red…”_

_“extraction of determination from a human soul cannot exist permanently in a monster host…”_

_“with too few subjects, we cannot isolate the true meaning of these colors and behaviour of the soul, only hypothesises have been drawn…”_

Here, Sans has circled it hard, drawing question marks over it in red ink. You can sense his confusion and anger, his frustration of the unknown. If Sans was reading all of these articles, did it mean that he was part of the scientists that…experimented? Were human souls really that important to him?

Did yours repulse him, a non-pigmented, ugly soul?

Your hand curls into a fist against the wall, and your forehead thunks against the diagrams on the wall, too burned up from thinking and trying to figure out what Sans is doing. Is he researching because he’s scared for you, or because he’s….he’s scared _of_ you?

You jump at the sudden thudding of footsteps coming down the basement, and you lift your head wearily, staring at the door. Has it already been an hour?

“Sorry, Papyrus,” you call, and the footsteps quicken. “I really don’t need a ride…”

You halt, blood freezing in your veins as a familiar heel extends, and clicks neatly on the basement floor.

“Miss Yuena.”

“I’m sorry, you look disappointed,” she purrs, tucking a glossy curl behind her ear as she surveys the place, lifting her brows like an exasperated mother. “Did I keep your date from you?”

Your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth, and you can feel your palms starting to sweat. Tugging at the edge of your sweater, you flinch back as she takes a step forward, your heel knocking into a pile of thick books and causing you to lose your balance. You sway, and sharp nails dig into your arms as Yuena catches you, yanking you back onto your feet. She’s so close that the sickly sweet scent of her perfume overwhelms you, and her gold hoop earrings swing forward to flick you slightly in the forehead.

“Careful,” she says, her voice a low, husky whisper, and she releases her grip. “I didn’t mean to scare you so bad, darling. You’re jumpier than a bunny. Or do you have something to hide?” One perfectly plucked eyebrow raises as she eases past you, clearing the couch with a sweep of her palm. The books go tumbling out of her way, and she hops onto the couch with the pleased look of a very smug cat.

“I wouldn’t be so jumpy if you didn’t make a small army open fire on me,” you retort, sounding much braver than you felt. She gives you a gleaming smile.

“I wouldn’t have opened fire if you listened to instructions. But that’s all in the past now.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I have other ways of…getting what I want.” She gestures grandly around her at the piles of papers and books. She must have been following you, and you’ve just given everything away. Your face must have shown despair, because she gives a red-lipsticked pout.

“Don’t look so upset, puppy,” she croons. “What, did you really expect me to play fair? Not when you leave all these doors so conveniently open for me. It’s like you’re begging for me to come find you.” She gives you a thoughtful look. “Maybe you are, subconsciously.”

She snaps her fingers, so loud and sharp you flinch again, and a fully armed team comes down the narrow stairs, sounding like a herd of elephants. They assemble behind her in neat ranks, and your hand slides into your pocket as casually as you can. You have Papyrus on speed dial at his insistence, and you’ve never been more grateful for that right now.

_Click._

“Uh uh uh, hand that over.” She’s drawn a pistol on you, the silver gleaming in the dim basement light. This is turning out exactly like a very bad action film, except that you’re no spy. You can’t fight. You can’t talk your way out of this, can’t make it past twenty men blocking the only exit.

But you can stop the Captain of the Royal Guards from unnecessarily sacrificing himself.

The thought fills you with determination.

“What if I don’t?” Your hands are trembling in your pockets, but nobody has to know. Your thumb jabs into the ‘2’ button as hard as you can, and you can feel it vibrate as it starts dialling. “What will you do?”

“What will I do?” she mocks, lifting the nozzle directly at your head. “You _know,_ little girl.”

The bullet explodes above you and you fall to the ground, one arm wrapping around your head. The plaster from the wall rains down around your trembling body. You want to be brave, but oh, you can’t stop shaking.

“Oops. I missed.” Your phone keeps vibrating, trying to connect to Papyrus. Usually he picks up on the first ring, why isn’t he picking up now?! “Come now, darling. I was going to go easy on you. I know it’s hard being a woman living on her own.” She furrows her brows, and gives a mock-pitiful frown. “Look around you. Do you really want to die in a place like this? We’re humans, darling, you and I.” She lowers the gun, and softens her gaze. “We should be on the same side of the war.”

“T-There shouldn’t even be a war.” You gather enough courage to lift your head and look up at her. “D-Doesn’t matter what side we choose. War is war. I-If you continue, you’ll just get hurt. The people you love, the people important to you.” You inhale shakily. “They all get hurt in a war. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

Her dark eyes lose their sly glint for a moment. “Is that a threat, little girl?”

“No.” You lift yourself up to your knees, but she doesn’t draw her gun again. “It’s just what’s going to happen.”

She studies you for a moment, before breaking into a slow chuckle, leaning forward with a smile too wide to be happy.

“Well, then isn’t it lucky that I’ve already lost everyone important?”

There’s a dark shadow of hate in her pretty eyes, ugly and raw and hurt like an open wound, but it disappears just as quickly as you see it, and she’s back to her usual confident, smug smile. She motions to a guard, who steps out of the room briefly.

Moments later, he returns with two struggling little persons, and you feel your determination dissipating to nothing at the sight of them. Frisk is bound and gagged, his protesting muffled. Jun is limp, his small body hanging loosely from the guard’s arm like a wet noodle.

Frisk’s muffled protests intensify as he catches sight of you, but the guard slams the end of his rifle at the side of Frisk’s head to silence his sudden outburst and wriggling. He doesn’t even cry, only glares with watery eyes as he turns away, a dark red bruise blossoming along the side of his cheek.

“Oh, Frisk,” you whisper helpessly. “J-Jun? Can you hear me?” You’re frozen to the floor at the sight of the gun barrels pressed to their heads. Jun’s chest is hardly moving, and you feel like your own heart has stopped, too. _“Jun?”_  

“Don’t worry, I left him alive. I’m no _monster.”_ She grins at her own joke, reclining comfortably on the lumpy couch. She points forward, and the guard drops both the children near you. You gather them into your arms, trying to pull the duct tape off Frisk’s mouth as gently as you could.

“My mother’s gonna come get you!” he yells furiously, as soon as you’ve peeled it off halfway. “She’s gonna be pissed off!”

“Oh, what a potty mouth you have,” she chides, clicking her tongue as she stands and strides towards you. You scurry backwards, hitting the wall as you gather Frisk and Jun tightly in your arms. Frisk’s face is a mask of defensive anger, but his small hands clutch at your sweater nervously, and you can feel his heart pounding against yours. Jun’s soft exhalation against your neck eases you somehow. At least he’s not dead.

“I know not to piss off mothers.” She gives a wry smirk, like there’s some kind of inside joke. “Something your _‘mother’_ probably can’t understand. Does she know she’s not your real mother? What kind of mother would leave her kids unattended in the garden while she cooks? Doesn’t she know there are big, bad people out there waiting to steal her children?” She tilts her head to the side, and covers her mouth in a faux shocked gasp. “Maybe she doesn’t know how to care for her _human_ children.”

“Stop it.” You press Frisk’s seething head into your shoulder protectively. “What’s the point of taking the kids? What do you want? There are easier ways to lure monsters out than this.”

“Again! Again with the monsters!” She waves her hand irritably, her forehead creased with frustration. “You talk like they’re some kinda saints. Are they? _Are they?_ Can you still say that after seeing those files, those photographs?! Can you say that after seeing that they do to us?!” You swallow hard, but you meet her gaze evenly. She tilts her head back, and sighs.

“Children are easy to brainwash. And this proves you’re just a child.” She eyes the three of you with contempt. “You don’t even know what’s good for you when it’s right in front of you. I’m offering you a chance at salvation, to be part of the species you rightfully belong to.” Her dark eyes flicker to you. “This may be a war, darling, but it’s a war we’re going to win. You should know where to stand, considering there are still people _important_ to you that you can’t lose.”

“Monsters are people, too.” She gives you a disbelieving snort, spinning on her heel to march angrily back to her troops. You’re so dizzy with fear and anxiety, you think you’re dreaming when you feel the familiar pull of the void.

But no, it tugs harder, a blank spot opening up on the wall behind you. Your heart leaps with hope. Your call must have gone through, after all. Sans has come to get you.

The void reaches out, and wraps itself around your neck and waist, squeezing tightly. You make a startled, strangled sound, and Frisk yelps as you start to fall, bringing both children with you.

This isn’t Sans.

The guards shout in alarm as you’re swallowed up by the void, and the last thing you see is Yuena’s look of disorientated shock as the darkness of the void crawls over your skin, your mouth and your nose, dragging you down into a never-ending space.

_“Hushhhhh. Hush, hushhh, hushhhh.”_

 The blackness covers your vision, and all your senses return to nothing.

* * *

 

Papyrus, the ever safety-conscious driver, cruises down the streets at the speed limit even though there are literally no other cars than his. Most people can’t afford their own, so besides the buses and trucks, Papyrus’ car is the only one on the road.

His heart can’t help but grow heavy at the thought of you. Sans hasn’t always been the best partner at relationships, that he knows, but he believes that his brother has nothing but good intentions. It just…simply didn’t work out with his mental state at being trapped in the underground. He’d hoped Sans would ease up, open up a little and let himself be happy when they finally managed to free themselves.

But the war started, and the diminishing hopes of a better life were almost enough to crush even Papyrus’ spirit.

But no, he couldn’t think of it that way. He’s never seen Sans so enamoured by another being before, so quick to trust and show affection to someone that isn’t Papyrus. He doesn’t understand why or how exactly, but with Sans, there’s always a lot of things he doesn’t understand. All he needs to know is that Sans is happy.

And Papyrus would fight to the end to keep that spark of happiness alive.

His phone starts to buzz. That must be you calling, though it’s barely been half an hour. He chuckles to himself. He knew you would get bored eventually, surrounded by only papers and figures. He’s driving on the highway, though, so he takes a while before he slows down to the side, and reaches over to answer his call.

“HELLO?“

  _“We should be on the same side of the war.”_ An unfamiliar woman’s voice, low and sultry, filters through the speaker. Papyrus furrows his brows, lifting his phone to see if someone’s calling him by mistake. No, that’s definitely you calling. Who was that?

 _“-shouldn’t even be a war.”_ Your voice rings out this time, shaky and frightened, but still determined. Papyrus’ grip tightens on the phone. _“I-If you continue, you’ll just get hurt. The people you love, the people important to you.”_

He listens closely, intently, all Captain-at-war now that you’re not alone. Through the speaker, he can hear shuffling. He knows that uncomfortable boot-scuff shuffle. Troops. There are more people in there, and though he can’t leave you alone, this isn’t a fight he can safely get you out of on his own.

_“They all get hurt in a war.”_

Papyrus turns his car around, driving back to the guard’s headquarters. He leaves his phone on speaker.

 _“But it doesn’t have to be like that.”_  

He releases a breath he doesn’t even know he’s holding. Maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to understand why you were such a novelty. Why Sans was so deeply, helplessly enamored with a human. You were reasoning with the enemy, for god's sake. You'd probably done the same with Sans, and it must have reminded him endearingly of Papyrus. Someone else who believed. Someone else who tried to see everyone as equals. 

Someone who could cherish Sans for who he is. 

 _“Is that a_ **threat,** little girl?”   


The steering wheel dents under his grip, and he floors it, tearing through the traffic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pap pap de pap pap to the rescue!  
> but how will he ever find them?  
> sorry for lack of sansy here, there will be a chockful o' sans next chapter!!


	18. the color of strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so i owe all of you a really big apology and explanation for the radio silence for 3 months. i'd fallen really ill again, during this same time, i was also applying for university, and i am grateful to be attending my university of choice! i had to move from my home country to perth for university, it was a big change and i got really caught up in the mess. i'm really really sorry for worrying anyone, and for (irrationally) not doing anything. i will not be abandoning this story, as i've already planned it out to the end (though the in between writing still needs a lot of work). 
> 
> now that i'm more settled in with my classes/feeling better, i am ready to present you with a chapter i'm satisfied with.  
> i want you guys to know that i just saw all the kind and lovely and caring messages you guys sent me and it almost sent me to the point of tears because you guys care so much even though you barely know me D: and i am so grateful to know all of you!! usually i update1-2 times a week, now i regretfully say i might only update once every fortnight to a month.   
> having a bad mental illness really really sucks. going to an overseas uni alone is honestly terrifying, but i'm here to make sure that people who suffer from mental illness have one more option to rely on. that being said, anyone here is free to talk to me about anything at all, i'd be happy to listen. i'm training to be a therapist/counselor someday.

**On the last chapter:**

Papyrus turns his car around, driving back to the guard’s headquarters. He leaves his phone on speaker.

_“But it doesn’t have to be like that.”_  

He releases a breath he doesn’t even know he’s holding. Maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to understand why you were such a novelty. Why Sans was so deeply, helplessly enamored with a human. You were reasoning with the enemy, for god's sake. You'd probably done the same with Sans, and it must have reminded him endearingly of Papyrus. Someone else who believed. Someone else who tried to see everyone as equals. 

Someone who could cherish Sans for who he is. 

_“Is that a_ **threat,** little girl?” 

The steering wheel dents under his grip, and he floors it, tearing through the traffic.

* * *

 

 The void swallows you whole, but you feel neither trapped nor free. Spiralling into an endless space, clutching two children to you, your throat burns with a scream that has no sound in a vacuum of nothing.

_“Child…chh-kk…”_

A low, raspy voice, distorted and staticky, breaks the suffocating silence around you.

The air around you thickens and pulls you down. Warm, white light unfolds beneath you, and you squint at it, grimacing as you can feel gravity finding its grasp on you. You clutch Frisk and Jun securely to your chest.

Your back makes contact first, hitting something soft and cushiony, but the impact is so great that you bounce and roll off it completely. Jun and Frisk are thrown out of your grasp, but thankfully, they land lightly, rolling a distance away from you.

Jun struggles to push himself up, rubbing his head, and you can see Frisk sitting up, his brown hair askew and his mouth curved in a frightened, displeased line.

“W-Where,” you croak, inhaling a mouthful of musty, stale air. You’re inside of what looks like an old office, except there are weird, long metal tables and strange metal stands, rusted and abandoned. At a closer glance, the dusty glass cabinets seemed to be filled with strange medical apparatuses of all sorts, including little beakers and Bunsen burners. Was this some sort of old makeshift hospital? A science laboratory?

You struggle to get up, dusting off the inch thick pile of dust on the floor that sticks to your pants. _Gross._ You pick a fumbling Jun up easily, and hold out a hand for Frisk. He clings to your arm tightly, narrow eyes gazing around the room suspiciously. You don’t blame him.

“Any idea where we are?” you ask hopefully, but Frisk shakes his head. You take off your jacket, beating the dust off the couch that saved your ass. You have the wildest feeling that you landing on soft things that cushioned your fall, right out of the void, wasn’t all _just_ luck. But twice is still a coincidence, right?

 You sit them both on the couch, and Jun promptly curls up and shuts his eyes, exhausted. You gingerly explore the room, finding a tightly bolted door. The locks have rusted over, and you try kicking at it several times. It jangles and groans, but it doesn’t budge. Bummer.

“Maybe this will help!” Frisk has lifted one of the metal stands over his head, and you raise your brows as you back away.

“Sure. Give it a shot, kid.” You wince as he runs headfirst, bringing down the metal stand onto the rusted old lock so hard his feet lift off the ground.

**_Crack!_ **

The old lock falls apart like it’s made of sticks, and he triumphantly slides the rusty deadbolt open.

“Jesus,” you breathe. “You’re a strong kid.”

“I know,” Frisk preens. “Mama always told me.”

Excitedly, you help Frisk drag the rusted door open, groaning and wincing as it scrapes painfully along the floor. As soon as the door is half open, your hands fall from the door in confusion.

The exit was all…bricked up. Frisk and you stare at the reddish brick wall in dismay.

You kick at it, but all it does is to stir up more dust. The brick wall is not yet old enough for you to bring it down that way, it seems. Frisk coughs, waving the cloud of dust away.

“Sorry, buddy.” You don’t see any other doors, and it seems like your only way out is a no-go. “Don’t suppose you could metal bar us outta this one, huh?”

**_Clank!_** No sooner had you said it, Frisk had already brought it down. Not even a slight dent in the wall, but the metal bar is bent.

“Good job, Frisk,” you try to say as encouragingly as you could, even when he throws it onto the ground in a huffy fit. Christ, this kid’s energy and strength was something else. “You did what you could. There’s gotta be another way out, we don’t know.” The walls were mostly bare, with some dark, rectangular imprints on the wall. Whoever used this room probably used to hang posters or something up there.

“We don’t even know where we are,” Frisk whimpers, and you push your hair out of your face, looking around desperately.

“ _I_ know.”

Jun’s quiet voice makes you jump. You hadn’t noticed he was fully awake again.

“Jun…you _know_ this place? What do you mean?”

“Liar!” Frisk shouts from across the room, where he’s struggling to climb onto a countertop, short legs pawing frantically in mid-air. He manages to hoist himself up successfully, and opens a cabinet. “You can’t even see.” 

Jun scowls for the first time at the blind jab, irritated. “I can feel.”

“Feel _what?_ The dust?”

“Frisk,” you chide at his scornful tone, picking him up and off the countertop. He huffs at you, but says nothing else, scrambling off to explore somewhere else.

“I can feel the Doctor’s energy.”

You pause, turning back to Jun. He’s staring straight ahead, his brows lightly furrowed like he’s trying to remember something. His lips are pursed, and you notice how pale and cracked they are. You hope he’s not getting sick again.

He looks ill and worried, so you settle next to him, sliding your arm around his narrow shoulders. He instinctively leans into you, fluffy white hair tickling your chin.

“The Doctor’s magic is weird here,” he whispers, lips pursed in a worried pout. You don’t have any idea exactly what he means, but you try to piece things together the best you can.

“You mean Dr. Gaster?” you ask, your breath ruffling his dandelion hair. He nods, cheek brushing against your shoulder. Jun being able to sense magic residue is still new to you, but you trust his instinct on it. That particular magical residue seemed to be everywhere and not at the same time. Alphys said it might just be Jun sensing his own magic, but somehow you doubted that Jun wouldn’t be able to differentiate his own magic after years of using it himself. “What’s weird about it, Jun?”

“Hey! Look at this ugly old thing I found!” From across the room, Frisk holds up an old teddy bear triumphantly, grinning at you. It’s battered and dusty, one button eye hanging on a thread, but what’s most disturbing is the doll’s arm attached to where the teddy’s arm should be. The bottom half of the poor old teddy’s body was cut off and sewn back onto the lower half of a baby doll’s legs. It gave you chills just looking at it, and you can’t help but squeal.

“Ew, Frisk! That is so creepy.” You grimace. “Put it back, _please._ ” As if being enclosed in here isn’t already giving you the creeps. You rub away the goose bumps on your arms, and you realise they’re prickling over Jun’s arms too.  “Hey Jun, you getting cold? Here, you can have my jacket-“

“The magic is weird,” Jun garbles anxiously, his blind eyes wide, shifting around erratically. “It’s everywhere.”

“What?”

“It’s messy! It’s everywhere!” His thin arms shoot out, and you jerk back just in time to avoid getting hit in the face. “It’s there! And there!” His arms flail about as if he’s trying to catch something flitting about in the thin, dusty air. You stare at him, completely lost. He scoops and paws desperately at nothing for a while, but like a compass, his right hand falls to point straight ahead.

Right at Frisk.

“There,” he whispers.

Frisk blinks at Jun, equally as lost as you are, until you notice the shadow that Frisk casts upon the wall is stirring. A staticky hum, the same awful white noise you hear in the void, echoes throughout the room, prickling unpleasantly at your ears. Frisk’s shadow ripples, climbing up along the empty walls, frothing to form something that looks more solid by the second.

Horror drenches your senses in ice water, numbs you to your core. But your body reacts first, faster than you can think, and you’re out of the couch, hands outstretched toward Frisk just as he realises what’s happening.

**_“Frisk!”_ **

The shadows bubble, expanding and retracting. The largest bubble, like a head, forms above you, and your legs skid to a stop as it surges forward to meet you. A white, lopsided skull emerges from the bubble and grins at you terrifyingly. Your knees almost buckle in fear as it hovers inches away from your face, nearly triple the size of your own head.

“Chkzzz..Chz..Child…?” it buzzes, the crackling white noise making its words almost indiscernible. You swallow thickly, and chance a glance at Frisk. He’s wide eyed and scared out of his wits, surrounded almost entirely by the goopy black mass of shadows. You’re fucking terrified yourself, but you can’t leave Frisk alone. Toriel would never stop blaming herself for anything that happened to Frisk.

The thought of her gentle, worried face steadies you, and you stretch out your hand as far as you can.

“Frisk!”

Frisk darts forward, but yelps as a shadowy claw clamps down on his shoulder, stopping him. The floating skull drifts forward, grinning his terrible grin inches from your face.

_“Exchange.”_ The low, breathy whisper comes from all around you. The shadows bubble, and a thin, skeletal hand rises from the black pool to point over your shoulder. The shadows slide and drip off the tip of its finger like black oil, but it dissipates into nothing once it falls onto you. You shudder anyway.

_“Exchange,”_ it repeats, the staticky voice raking down your spine like nails on a chalkboard. You turn stiffly, following the direction of the bony finger.

Jun blinks back at you.

* * *

 

The air in the basement is disturbed. Dust drifts through the air, clouded with gunpowder and the cloying smell of blood.

Papyrus eases his grip on the baseball bat, tapping it lightly on his open palm, the metal clinking against his bones. Yuena sits on the couch amidst her fallen soldiers, blood dribbling down her cheek, a shade brighter than her lipstick. She licks her lips, and gives Papyrus a bright, toothy smile.

“I told you the truth. Monsters came and took them.”

Papyrus sighs.

“They went in there, through that hole that opened in the wall.” She leans back more comfortably, lacing her fingers together smugly. “My energy detector has been going off the radar. This human seems to have a knack of being kidnapped by big energy fields, don’t you think?” She tosses the beeping device at him and he catches it, brows furrowed as he studies it.

“Maybe you should check your own kind more thoroughly. You don’t know your kind well enough, it seems.”

Papyrus crumples the device in his palm like paper, and the beeping buzzes out. Dull pinpricks of light focus on her.

“I heard a gunshot,” he says, so very softly that Yuena almost misses his words. “So if you’re hiding the bodies, you’d be better off telling me.”

“Whatever _bodies_ there were…” Papyrus flinches. “They were dragged down to hell with that monster.” He barely registers a quiet click, and he lifts his gaze to see himself staring down the barrel of Yuena’s gun, pointed at his head. He won’t be quick enough to snatch it out of her hand.

“And you can go to hell with them.”

She fires, and the room explodes with the deafening crack. Papyrus is still, aware of the sharp stench of gunpowder, still blind by the stirred up dust. It settles, and he sees the bullets, hovering an inch from his skull, tinted in blue.

Sans looms in the basement door, his eye glowing eerily in the dark. Toriel stands tall, regal, but her fury makes her eyes cold and hateful. She nods at him once, sharp and formal.

“Captain.”

“you losing your touch, bro?” Sans’ familiar, amused rumble brings Papyrus out of his daze. He shuffles forward, lowering his head and twisting his shoulders so he fits through the door. “sorry i’m late to the party. pity ya used all yer bullets in one go, eh lady?” He grins at Yuena as he passes the couch, sharp and bright, much too wide to be happy.

Toriel glides in front of Papyrus, sweeping the hovering bullets aside, unmoving even as Yuena continues holding up her gun.

“Where are my children?”

Yuena gives a disbelieving laugh.  “ _Your_ children?”

“Papyrus said he heard their screams over the phone.” Toriel is steady, holding herself entirely still, but Papyrus can see her clenched fists trembling behind her back, fire sparking from her fingertips. “And your voice, threatening them.”

“I would never hurt children.” Yuena’s smile is strained, more a snarl than a grin, and her eyes are as dark and angry as Toriel’s. “Human children. So you can worry when you get your own kids, instead of kidnapping humans.”

“gimmie a reason i shouldn’t send these bullets flyin’ back into yer skull,” Sans growls, flicking one of the bullets. It spins about wildly in mid-air.

 “You don’t know I used up all my bullets.”

“then why aintcha firing?”

“I didn’t lie,” she says loudly, her eyes alight. “There _was_ a black hole. A monster took them, right there, on that wall!”

Sans’ grin freezes. Yuena regains her smile, wide and smug at his confusion.  

“A _monster_ swallowed them all whole.”

He turns to smooth his hand over the brick wall, parts of it crumbling where bullets had hit it before. The magic clings to his fingertips, humming, still new and brimming with power, sticky like slime.

He snatches his hand back.

“Sans?”

Papyrus is gazing at him worriedly, but his eyes look far away, his head tilted to the side. Sans tries to smile, but it doesn’t come. He’s never heard Papyrus speak so quietly before, and it’s honestly freaking him the fuck out.

“It’s the same as the crack of void in that alley, isn’t it? The one we found on our rounds?”

“yea. i think searching there’s a good start.”

They turn to the couch, and it’s empty. Nothing left but the empty gun lying on the couch, in the centre of limp guards draped over each other on the floor.

“Let her go,” Toriel interrupts, her jaw clicking tensely. “They’re not with her. We don’t have time to waste.”

 

Toriel watches Papyrus start up the car, feels it purr to life as they pull away. Sans is taking a short cut. For once, she’s at a loss for words.

“Papyrus, are you alright?”   

Papyrus gives a non-committed grunt, and he increases his speed, running a red light. The metal baseball bat rolls forward in the back seat, and she catches a glimpse of dried blood, caked thickly on the blunt end-

“I didn’t mean to do it, Sans,” Papyrus whispers.

Toriel’s heart thumps to the ground at Papyrus’ expression, fury extinguished. He even called for Sans by mistake.

“What did you do, Papyrus?” she asks gently.  

“I didn’t mean to kill them.”

It startles Toriel so much, she almost drives her knee straight into the dashboard. Those guards were dead? With Papyrus, Toriel just assumed… She catches herself quickly, and pins down her hand so it doesn’t go flying to her mouth.

“Oh, Papyrus.” Toriel felt exhausted, ready for this to end. “W-We…we all make mistakes,” she begins lamely.

“But they’re dead.” Toriel grimaces at his tone, quietly desperate. The leather of the steering wheel squeaks under his tight grip. “And I still didn’t find them.  It’s my fault, I should have made sure our streets were patrolled better, I shouldn’t have left her alone. Sans’ important person.” Papyrus’ voice cracks a little at the end.

Toriel stares out at the empty, abandoned streets streaking past them.

“You are Sans’ important person too, Papyrus.”

Papyrus smiles, but it doesn’t reach the dull lights in his eye sockets.

“Uh huh.”

* * *

 

_“Eckkkzz… **Exchange!!”**_

The monster (the old Doctor?) screams, and the static crackles so hard in your ears that it seems to echo inside your head. You’re forced to back away, and he seems to follow, but his shadows seep through so slowly that he can only move a tile every now and then.

You manage to grasp onto Jun’s hands, and tug him with you.

“He can’t come too close.” Jun’s whispery voice is trembling so hard you can barely make out his words, his hands icy cold with fear. “I made a barrier, but it w-won’t…can’t stay for long.”

“I just need a few seconds to grab Frisk,” you murmur quietly to him, even though your legs feel so much like jelly that you were starting to doubt yourself. The mass of shadows is gradually getting closer, groaning and crying out with so many voices like it hurts to even move.  Every single hair on your body is standing on its end.

“Hurry.” Jun squeezes your hand, and you focus on Frisk instead, his terrified face in the midst of the shadows.

The shadows have rolled together to form a goopy mass of something that looks like a giant, misshapen…thing, with protruding things that look like they’re trying to form hands. They reach out towards you with surprising speed and you flinch, but they hit against an invisible barrier, collapsing helplessly to the ground with a screech.

The screech makes your legs scramble upwards, and you dig your hands madly into the goop, wrenching Frisk from bony, oily fingers. The next thud from the monster’s hands seems a little louder, a little closer.

“Hurry!” Jun cries, and you heave with all your strength as Frisk kicks, trying to free himself.

_“G-Give me…chkkzzz… **give me!”** _

You look up, and you wish you hadn’t; hundreds of hands are pressed onto the invisible barrier, and you can see visible cracks forming on a surface, like an eggshell. With a burst of adrenaline, you yank Frisk free.

It’s too late, the barrier shatters.

You see several things at once; hands reaching out for Jun, the mass of shadows pressing into your back. Jun curls in on himself, skinny arms wrapped over his head futilely. Behind Jun, the bricked entrance falls apart, and Sans’ face appears.

“Sans,” you say, but you can’t hear yourself over the static screeching. “Help.”  

He sees you.

The shadows fall over you, enveloping you in pitch black. _Get Jun!_ your mind screams, and your chest feels like it’s about to burst. _Get him get him get himgethimgethimgethim-_

In the pitch darkness, your chest blooms with light. Dull, faded grey light, but light nonetheless. You can see Frisk’s wild, frightened face. And further away, Jun’s body, trapped by squirming hands.

The light changes, like a drop of paint in water. Cloudy, warm, strawberry-milk pink fills the empty pixelated heart hovering in mid-air. It lashes out and the hands recoil from Jun, wrapping him in a strange, oversized pink bubble. Frisk finds himself in a bubble, too, and he tumbles over and over inside it till he can press his hand against the walls, staring at you, wide-eyed.

‘How?’ he mouths. You don’t know.

The darkness ripples, once, twice, and splits open in a hot burst of light. Blue light. Bright, searing blue energy.

It burns.

The shadows release you, and you drop like a stone. Your head bounces, and white stars burst behind your eyelids. Your body feels like it’s on fire.

“oh no, no no no.” Someone mutters frantically, and your body is being lifted. “shit shit shit. doll, can you hear me? can you open your eyes?”

The voice is Sans’, and you soak in his low, worried rumble. It’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice.

“toriel! **_toriel!_** _”_

Toriel is here? You have to get up, you can’t sleep when she’s coming over to see you. Your head is so woozy, nothing makes much sense, but try as you might, you can’t open your eyes. They’re too heavy. Breathing is hard, too. Your skin tingles.

“will you please, will you please open your eyes, doll? jus’ fer me? c’mon, babydoll, jus’ a little. ”

“Sans, will you lend me some-”

“yea, course, i know..”

Something cool seeps through your body, pooling at your chest, and all of a sudden you don’t feel as heavy and numb as you did. It’s still hard to open your eyes, but you force them open, and blink wearily.

“oh my fucking god,” Sans breathes.

“Not in front of the children,” Toriel chides half-heartedly, but there are tears in her eyes.

There are so many things you want to say.

 

“It hurts,” you whisper, and Sans’ face crumples.

“i’m sorry.”

“Why? Did you do this to me?”

“yes. i didn’t mean to hit ya, i swear, ‘m so glad you’re safe,” he babbles.

“You bastard.”

“sorry.” He sniffles, and buries his face in your neck. It’s cool and soothing against your skin.

“My skin is on fire.”

“i kno’, tori’s gonna help. i’m sorry, doll.”

“I would skin you alive if you had any skin.”

“i’m sorry.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and feedback are very welcome! come chat with me greytrashcan.tumblr if you wanna! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	19. the color of truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i'm sorry i've been gone for so long! here's a long new chapter to make up for it! the next chapter will be up sooner or later :)   
> thank you for all the kind words, i'm doing okay! uni is just a bit harder than i thought! your support really touches me (TTo TT) i will work harder to bring better chapters along!
> 
> hope you guys are all doing well~ ヾ(￣◇￣)ノ

**_On the last chapter:_ **

Toriel watches Papyrus start up the car, feels it purr to life as they pull away. Sans is taking a short cut. For once, she’s at a loss for words.

“Papyrus, are you alright?”   

Papyrus gives a non-committed grunt, and he increases his speed, running a red light. The metal baseball bat rolls forward in the back seat, and she catches a glimpse of dried blood, caked thickly on the blunt end-

“I didn’t mean to do it, Sans,” Papyrus whispers.

Toriel’s heart thumps to the ground at Papyrus’ expression, fury extinguished. He even called for Sans by mistake.

“What did you do, Papyrus?” she asks gently.  

“I didn’t mean to kill them.”

It startles Toriel so much, she almost drives her knee straight into the dashboard. Those guards were dead? With Papyrus, Toriel just assumed… She catches herself quickly, and pins down her hand so it doesn’t go flying to her mouth.

“Oh, Papyrus.” Toriel felt exhausted, ready for this to end. “W-We…we all make mistakes,” she begins lamely.

“But they’re dead.” Toriel grimaces at his tone, quietly desperate. The leather of the steering wheel squeaks under his tight grip. “And I still didn’t find them.  It’s my fault, I should have made sure our streets were patrolled better, I shouldn’t have left her alone. Sans’ important person.” Papyrus’ voice cracks a little at the end.

Toriel stares out at the empty, abandoned streets streaking past them.

“You are Sans’ important person too, Papyrus.”

Papyrus smiles, but it doesn’t reach the dull lights in his eye sockets.

“Uh huh.”

__________________________________________________________________

 

_“Eckkkzz… **Exchange!!”**_

The monster (the old Doctor?) screams, and the static crackles so hard in your ears that it seems to echo inside your head. You’re forced to back away, and he seems to follow, but his shadows seep through so slowly that he can only move a tile every now and then.

You manage to grasp onto Jun’s hands, and tug him with you.

“He can’t come too close.” Jun’s whispery voice is trembling so hard you can barely make out his words, his hands icy cold with fear. “I made a barrier, but it w-won’t…can’t stay for long.”

“I just need a few seconds to grab Frisk,” you murmur quietly to him, even though your legs feel so much like jelly that you were starting to doubt yourself. The mass of shadows is gradually getting closer, groaning and crying out with so many voices like it hurts to even move.  Every single hair on your body is standing on its end.

“Hurry.” Jun squeezes your hand, and you focus on Frisk instead, his terrified face in the midst of the shadows.

The shadows have rolled together to form a goopy mass of something that looks like a giant, misshapen…thing, with protruding things that look like they’re trying to form hands. They reach out towards you with surprising speed and you flinch, but they hit against an invisible barrier, collapsing helplessly to the ground with a screech.

The screech makes your legs scramble upwards, and you dig your hands madly into the goop, wrenching Frisk from bony, oily fingers. The next thud from the monster’s hands seems a little louder, a little closer.

“Hurry!” Jun cries, and you heave with all your strength as Frisk kicks, trying to free himself.

_“G-Give me…chkkzzz… **give me!”**_

You look up, and you wish you hadn’t; hundreds of hands are pressed onto the invisible barrier, and you can see visible cracks forming on a surface, like an eggshell. With a burst of adrenaline, you yank Frisk free.

It’s too late, the barrier shatters.

You see several things at once; hands reaching out for Jun, the mass of shadows pressing into your back. Jun curls in on himself, skinny arms wrapped over his head futilely. Behind Jun, the bricked entrance falls apart, and Sans’ face appears.

“Sans,” you say, but you can’t hear yourself over the static screeching. “Help.”  

He sees you.

The shadows fall over you, enveloping you in pitch black. _Get Jun!_ your mind screams, and your chest feels like it’s about to burst. _Get him get him get himgethimgethimgethim-_

In the pitch darkness, your chest blooms with light. Dull, faded grey light, but light nonetheless. You can see Frisk’s wild, frightened face. And further away, Jun’s body, trapped by squirming hands.

The light changes, like a drop of paint in water. Cloudy, warm, strawberry-milk pink fills the empty pixelated heart hovering in mid-air. It lashes out and the hands recoil from Jun, wrapping him in a strange, oversized pink bubble. Frisk finds himself in a bubble, too, and he tumbles over and over inside it till he can press his hand against the walls, staring at you, wide-eyed.

‘How?’ he mouths. You don’t know.

The darkness ripples, once, twice, and splits open in a hot burst of light. Blue light. Bright, searing blue energy.

It burns.

The shadows release you, and you drop like a stone. Your head bounces, and white stars burst behind your eyelids. Your body feels like it’s on fire.

“oh no, no no no.” Someone mutters frantically, and your body is being lifted. “shit shit shit. doll, can you hear me? can you open your eyes?”

The voice is Sans’, and you soak in his low, worried rumble. It’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice.

“toriel! **_toriel!_** _”_

Toriel is here? You have to get up, you can’t sleep when she’s coming over to see you. Your head is so woozy, nothing makes much sense, but try as you might, you can’t open your eyes. They’re too heavy. Breathing is hard, too. Your skin tingles.

“will you please, will you please open your eyes, doll? jus’ fer me? c’mon, babydoll, jus’ a little. ”

“Sans, will you lend me some-”

“yea, course, i know..”

Something cool seeps through your body, pooling at your chest, and all of a sudden you don’t feel as heavy and numb as you did. It’s still hard to open your eyes, but you force them open, and blink wearily.

“oh my fucking god,” Sans breathes.

“Not in front of the children,” Toriel chides half-heartedly, but there are tears in her eyes.

There are so many things you want to say. “It hurts,” you whisper, and Sans’ face crumples.

“i’m sorry.”

“Why? Did you do this to me?”

“yes. i didn’t mean to hit ya, i swear, ‘m so glad you’re safe,” he babbles.

“You bastard.”

“sorry.” He sniffles, and buries his face in your neck. It’s cool and soothing against your skin.

“My skin is on fire.”

“i kno’, tori’s gonna help. i’m sorry, doll.”

“I would skin you alive if you had any skin.”

“i’m sorry.”

* * *

 

 

 

Toriel’s bedroom is just like her, large and warm and cozy. The room is bathed in a soft, yellow glow from Toriel’s lamp. Her magical trinkets gleam as they spin in the air, keeping a close eye on you. You exhale deeply, wincing at the slight sting in your ribs, and the trinkets tinkle, one shining brighter than the rest. The bed heats up, and the sting fades. You settle into bed with a relieved sigh.

Magic painkillers were the only kind you’ll accept from now on. You felt like you were floating on a cloud.

“gettin’ high off the magic, ain’tcha.”

You jolt at the sudden voice, hissing in pain as your ribs strain with your sudden movement. You should really be used to Sans appearing wherever he likes by now, but you still jumped. Clothes rustle as Sans drops by your side, bony hands hovering but not daring to touch, the furrow between his brow bones deepening again. You’ve been seeing that horrid furrow a lot recently, it seems like it’s almost etched into his bones now. It makes him look a hundred times more menacing than he already does, and it isn’t him at all. You miss his delighted grins, even the annoying smug ones.

Your fingers press into the furrow to smooth it out, but it only goes deeper. It does stop his fervent apologies.

“Stop saying sorry,” you rasp. “It’s annoying.”

“sorry,” he says automatically, and you growl at him as he gives you a wry smile. One of his large hands comes to wrap around yours, and it’s enough to hold both of your hands at once. You lift it to your lips, and press a reassuring kiss to one bony knuckle. His cheekbones tint a faint blue. Interesting.

“I’m okay, Sans. Just tired. And a little sore.”

“wish you’d say that under different circumstances,” he grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“what?” he echoes you playfully, but his flush seems a lot brighter than before.

A soft knock interrupts, and the door swings open an inch to show Toriel peeking around the corner. “My child, is it okay if I…” She pauses as she takes in Sans next to the bed.

“Sans!” she scolds. “I told you to use the door, instead of sneaking around like an unscrupulous gentleman in a lady’s room…!”

You’ve never seen Sans so abashed, hiding your smile behind your hand as you watch the hulking monster scramble to his feet. Toriel enters the room, holding a tray of something steaming. It smells so good, your stomach grumbles immediately, and loudly. It even echoes in the room. Sans snickers quietly.

“seems like there’re more than two monsters in the room, eh?”

Your cheeks heat, but Toriel only seems delighted at your response to her cooking. She places the tray by the bed, her paw pressing against your forehead. Your body floods with warmth again, and you close your eyes, relishing in the flickering magic.

“You seem to be healing quite nicely, my dear.” Toriel smiles gently at you, her warm eyes flickering gold as they reflect the spinning trinkets. “I think you should be free of that bed tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Toriel,” you say earnestly, but you can’t help looking behind her for a little mop of white hair. She catches your gaze, and her smile softens.

“The children are at Alphys’. They’re…strategizing.”

You frown. “Strategizing? For what?”  
  
Toriel hesitates, and exchanges glances with Sans.  Sans gets off the wall he was leaning on, and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “we’re planning to investigate the lab you were trapped in.”

“With the kids?! No way! Didn’t you see that strange monster try to kill them?” You sat upright in bed, ignoring the throbbing pain crawling up your side again. The trinkets tinkle at once, spinning furiously.

“We will be there as well,” Toriel says hurriedly. “So will Alphys, and Papyrus, and Undyne. We will not be alone, like we were before.” She lays a heavy paw on your shoulder reassuringly. “We were going to wait till you were better to come with us.”  
  
“No way,” you blurted. “There’s _no way_ I’m gonna let Jun, o-or Frisk, near that place again. They were terrified. _I_ was terrified! We could have died in there! That…that monster could still be there!”

“the kid wants to go back.” You deflate slightly at Sans’ impassive statement.  
  
“But…they do? Why?”  
  
“It’s where Jun comes from,” Toriel explains gently, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “He remembers how the way around the lab. If there’s anything Jun wants to find out about himself before the lab…and how Alphys can save himself before his soul gives up, that’s where we’d find the answers. Jun insists upon going, and eventually Frisk would want to follow him.” You twist the duvet uneasily, fingers digging into the soft cotton. Of course, Jun would want to know who he was before the lab, to know what kind of life he had, or a family…

_Jun’s family._  
  
You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat didn’t go away. If Jun found his real family, would he leave you? He was part of your family now, and you couldn’t imagine living without him. That dreary apartment was homely because he was waiting for you in it, but going back to an empty, cold place, with no one to share dinner with...

But if Jun had a family that was waiting for him, then he could be away from this crumbling town, with proper food and healthcare. A child couldn’t help but be constantly sick with the old, leaking apartment and limited food you could barely provide.

The thought fills you with determination, even if your heart selfishly wilts at the thought.

“Okay,” you say. “But we stay together, and no one separates from the group.”

“That’s the idea.” Toriel stands from the bed, smoothing her skirts distractedly. “Well, darling, I’ll leave you to rest. Tomorrow will be an eventful day for all of us, I suppose. Or not.” She waves her finger purposefully at Sans. “To _rest,_ you hear?”

The door closes quietly behind her, and Sans is a blazing blue lamp on his own, standing stiffly against the wall.  
  
“the hell did i ever do ta’ ya, tori,” he grumbles. You manage a small laugh, and pat the bed.  
  
“Come here.” He gazes dully at you.

“tori would kill me.”

“Not if I get to it first.” You pat the bed again, and Sans hesitantly shuffles over, sitting gingerly on the bed. It squeaks under his weight, but it’s large enough that he can stretch his legs out. Kicking off his shoes, he leans back uncomfortably, fingers fidgeting as his eyes slide over to you.

“feeling better?”

“Not yet.” You climb carefully over the covers, avoiding his long legs, and burrow yourself under his coat. You can feel his body jerk in surprise, but you continue to bury your face into the warm expanse of soft wool, curling up against his broad chest.

Slowly, carefully, his arm comes up to wrap itself around you, his oversized coat almost hiding you from view.

“better now?” His voice seems lower, gravelly and shakier, but it could be just that you were hearing it rumble from inside his chest. You give an affirmative hum, and the arm around you tightens.

“didn’t take you more than a week before you threw yourself in my arms, huh?” he teases, and your head shoots up at the sudden reminder, almost crashing into his chin.

“Yeah, what the fuck happened to you?! You ignored me for a whole week, and now you’re acting like nothing happened? What the fuck’s wrong with you?” You punch his shoulder and he winces, more from your words than your measly punch. “Papyrus didn’t know what happened to you either! I was so goddamned worried! And we found you snoring like a pig on the couch, looking up weird things about human souls!” You can feel him pause, the lights in his eyes dimming again. You hated it. “It’s cause of me, isn’t it? It’s my soul.” His skull dips lower, not meeting your gaze.

“If you don’t like it, then just tell me. If you don’t like me anymore.” Your lip trembled, but you held in the sadness and disappointment churning in your gut. “I can deal with it.”

Sans’ head jerks up, the lights in his eyes gleaming fiercely. “’course not, doll. the hell d’ya take me for? i was jus…” His teeth grinded together as he tried to find the words, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. Relieved, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “i just thought…cus of how it looked, that you were going to die.”

“What?” Alarmed, you slide backwards, but Sans holds you firmly. “Am I?”

“ya ain’t. tori and alphys confirmed you were healthy…for a human. only humans on the verge of dying have souls that look like that. i…i thought i was gonna lose you, doll. i lost myself trying to find a way that could save you, but i was jus bein’ a fool.” He gives you a slow grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “i didn’t think to ask anyone else for help either, i think i couldn’t bear the thought of…someone else telling me the truth. that you were going to disappear, no matter how hard i tried.”

“Sans…” You gazed despairingly at his distant look, then knocked him hard on his bony skull.

“oww!” he complained, clutching his head, but at least his dead-eyed look was gone. You hugged his head. “The dumbest bone in your whole body is your head.”

His eyes soften, and he nuzzles into your neck gently, large hands pulling you closer. You press a kiss to the spot you knocked. “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur against his skull. His grip tightens.

“i almost lost ya a couple of times,” he whispers, almost like he’s scared it’d come true if he said it too loud. Your heart sinks, and lie your cheek against the top of his head.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He shakes his head slowly.

“I did,” you insisted. “But Sans, I can protect myself now!” He lifts a lazy brow at you.

“the pink barrier frisk said you made?” he grunts. “shoulda made one for yerself.”  
  
“I didn’t know how!”  
  
“sometimes humans can conduct magic, though not as well. same principle as electricity. but different properties. since you’ve been absorbing magic so much from tori and i, it’ll react to your soul’s needs. but ya probably used it up all that one time.”

Your head was spinning from the sudden influx of information. “I’ve been absorbing magic…?”

“uh-huh.” Sans glanced up at you mischievously, and a sudden blue tongue flickered over his teeth. “ya want some more?”

Heat seared across your cheeks, and you shoved at his unmoving shoulders. _“Sans!_ Stop that! _”_  

“not moving,” he mumbled, nuzzling against your chest. _“soft.”_

**_“SANS!”_ **

* * *

 

 The old alleyway looked the same as it always did, but the atmosphere was tense. Sans gripped onto your hand tightly, and you held onto Jun just as firmly. The group of monsters and humans glanced nervously at the dented dumpster, knocked over on its side.

 “Well, hurry up then!” Undyne growled, even though her voice held a tinge of uneasiness. “Are we gonna wait here all day?” You glanced nervously at the agitated monster. She was several heads taller than you, looking fairly menacing with her muscles straining against the fitted leather jacket, her red ponytail flickering angrily as she bounced with nervous energy. Alphys was clinging to her side, looking frightened out of her wits but considerably determined to follow the crowd. Papyrus was uncharacteristically silent, though Toriel could see his eyes were trained on you and the children. He still hadn’t forgiven himself and the crimes he was forced to commit in the basement, Toriel guessed. She sighed, shifting closer to give him a light pat on the shoulder.

Sans gave your hand a final squeeze, and moved forward to run his hand along the now-empty brick wall. With the portal gone, it looked just like an ordinary wall.

Suddenly, the wall sparked at Sans’ fingertips, and everyone jumped, even Undyne. Frisk braced himself, shuffling protectively in front of Jun. You were touched. Frisk was so terrified, being almost swallowed alive the last time he was here, you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to be here. But he squinted determinedly at the wall, squished against Jun. Jun seemed to trust him too, his thin fingers holding the edges of Frisk’s hoodie securely.

“the portal collapsed.” Sans frowns, dragging a finger across it. It continued to spark. “it’s old, but unstable. the magic was weak. ‘splains why the humans were trapped in here.” Pressing his palm flat against the wall, the brick walls warp, then dissolve into a gaping black hole. “i can follow where the portal was leading to. so.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the opening. The darkness yawns, black as night, and you gulp. “who’s first?”

The darkness of the void isn’t better than before. You’re relieved when you stumble out, even if it’s to stale, cold laboratory air. A heavy hand catches you, and you smile gratefully up at Sans, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s on edge, eyes on the lookout, and you can’t blame him. There’s a muffling, suffocating silence to this place, even with the dim florescent lights flickering overhead. Alphys waves her tiny spanner triumphantly from the next room over. She must have gotten a way to get the lights working again. Your leg hits an overturned table, and the reminders of the attack sends shivers up your spine. Jun’s hand is cold and sweaty, but you grip it tightly nonetheless. Undyne huffs, wiping a line of dust off the overturned counters with a grimace. “Never thought I’d be here again,” she scowls, wiping her hands off on her jeans.

“Um,” you squeak. “You know this place?” Undyne tilts her head and sneers unpleasantly.

“Yeah, little human. It’s where the monsters come from. The underground.”

“Oh,” you say intelligently. She clicks her teeth irritably and crosses her arms. “Well, what the hell are we supposed to be looking for?”

“you and paps be on the lookout. the rest of us will look for whatever files are in here, especially those about humans.”

“Since when were you in charge, Sansy boy?” Undyne chortles, jabbing Sans in the chest. “Are you saying me ‘nd Papyrus are not smart enough to be reading files, huh?”

 Sans is unperturbed, his grin spreading even though his eyes are narrowed. “sayin’ we need our best on the lookout, just that.”  
  
“T-T-That’s right!!” Alphys chimes in nervously, tugging on Undyne’s jacket. “After the attack, w-we need someone to guard us. A-And there’s no guard better than y-you, or P-Papryus, right?” Undyne stares down at Alphys for a moment, her gaze thoughtful before brightening up.

“Hoho! Are you saying the puny humans need our protection? Fine! Then I accept!” Undyne crows. Toriel sighs, and turns to Papyrus. He nods solemnly, and catches Sans gazing at him warily.

“DON’T FUSS, BROTHER. I CAN FEEL YOU FUSSING FROM OVER HERE. I’LL STAND GUARD, AS PROMISED.”

“paps…”

“GO ON, HURRY UP SO WE CAN GET OUT OF HERE.”

Sans gives his brother one last look, and leaves reluctantly.

The laboratory, with its doors now open to other rooms, is a lot bigger than you thought. And in such a dark space, with no way to tell if time was passing, made you feel like you were suspended in a never-ending place, and it was making you slightly nauseous.

Frisk has taken it upon himself to be Jun’s seeing-eye person, whispering the details of the room to Jun. They navigate room after room, each darker and more suffocating than the last. Toriel trots amiably behind them, but the expression on her face is hard and cold, her eyes always looking ahead for danger. Sans looks relaxed, lazy almost, but his hand hasn’t loosened its grip on yours, even for a moment.

Suddenly, your feet trip over something lying on the floor, and you look down to see a pair of large, round eyes staring at you, small lips curved in a cracked smile. Yelping, you jump away, Sans’ arm hoisting you into the air easily. Something flares a bright blue, and in the light, you could see that it was just a doll. An old, dusty doll, her plastic smile split from time and misuse. Toriel relaxes, sighing in relief, and your cheeks burn.

“Sorry,” you whisper, slowly peeling yourself away from Sans’ protective grip. One of his eyes is a flickering blue, before it vanishes into nothing. The room dims without it.

“It’s here,” Jun’s voice slices through the tension. “This is my room.”

Blinking, you take in your surroundings. It still looks very much like a laboratory, but there’s a child-sized hospital bed tucked in the corner, filled with strange-looking stuffed animals. It looked as if they’d fallen apart and had other toys’ appendages stitched onto them. A purple teddy had a brown arm, and his eyes were mismatched buttons. A baby doll’s head was sewn neatly onto a stuffed penguin’s body. The strange toys, in the dim florescent light, seem to observe you as much as you did them. You shuddered.

The rest of the room was occupied by large, shiny tables, with all kinds of medical apparatuses covered in white sheets. It appears whoever left had left in a great hurry. The cloth hardly covered some of the equipment, and there were overturned beakers and stains from something white spilled on the floor.

Was this really the place Jun lived before you found him? Why was he here, down in the underground before monsters emerged?

“Sans,” you whispered, the skeleton already busying himself with flipping through a thick file, other books and papers hovering around him in his strange blue light. Alphys is deep into a file, her brows furrowed in concentration. She plucks a hovering blue sheet of paper out of the air. “Sans, was…was the portal here before monsters came onto the surface?”

Sans glanced up from his file, and Alphys seems to burrow her head further into her papers, even though she doesn’t seem to be reading them. “something like that. but we can’t figure out how gaster cheated the barrier to open a portal on the surface.” He flips a page irritably. “from what he documented…the portal wasn’t stable enough for him to enter the surface. but it seems it was enough for…humans to enter. not just any human, either.” His eyes darkened. “only children were small enough to enter without tearing the portal.”

“Chi..children?” you repeated stupidly. There’s a squeak and a shuffle, and Alphys looks like she’s trying to disappear entirely under her papers. Toriel stiffens uncomfortably, her bright eyes pained and sorrowful.

“I found it!” Frisk calls, holding a hefty file aloft in his arms. “It’s Jun’s file!”

The file is opened and examined on the large table, and you can feel your heart thudding uneasily in your chest. There are strange diagrams of a large machine, scribblings of symbols and notes you don’t understand. There are many monster profiles alongside human ones, but big, red crosses have been drawn across them. You shudder to think what it means.

A detailed profile of a sleeping little owl monster is attached firmly, next to one of an unsmiling child. The child’s face has been smudged from constant exposure, and so is the little owl’s photo. _Yillium_ is printed neatly under the photograph, as well as a date. That must be the owl’s name. _Lee Jungsu_ labels the unknown child, with what looks like a ripped school’s name tag taped carefully onto the profile.

_Complete Combination,_ the profile states in big, bold letters. _Determination in human body still unstable._

A new profile, with the same diagram of the strange, deformed soul that Jun has, but without all the cracks. Half of an upright human soul, and half of an upside-down monster soul, sewn together so tightly the stitches are visible. The letters of their names are scribbled out, and jumbled into a new one.

_D01892. Lee Jun Yi._

You shove the file away, feeling sick, and a small polaroid slips out from the stack and drops to the floor. You pick it up, wanting to stick it back where it belongs, but the writing on the back stops you. It’s rounded and childish, a kid’s handwriting.

**My first Polaroid! Age 5.** And beneath it, he had carefully printed his name in block letters.

**LEE JUNGSU + MOMMY**

You flip the photo card, and a small, unfamiliar face grins into the camera. His face is round, where Jun’s is sharp and angular, and his hair is dark and wavy, curling away from big, brown eyes. Glowing eyes. Eyes that could see. He looks completely different.

A woman is crouched next to him, holding him lovingly in her arms, her smile as bright and toothy as his. You lift your thumb off her face to have a proper look, and your knees go weak.  

Over your shoulder, Sans emits a low growl. Toriel gives a muffled sob.

It’s Yuena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me greytrashcan.tumblr.com (o u o)  
> feedback and comments help fill me with determination! ヽ(•̀ω•́ )ゝ✧


	20. the color of the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after 900000 years finally an update i'm not that dead (X o X)

**On the last chapter:**

I found it!” Frisk calls, holding a hefty file aloft in his arms. “It’s Jun’s file!”

The file is opened and examined on the large table, and you can feel your heart thudding uneasily in your chest. There are strange diagrams of a large machine, scribblings of symbols and notes you don’t understand. There are many monster profiles alongside human ones, but big, red crosses have been drawn across them. You shudder to think what it means.

A detailed profile of a sleeping little owl monster is attached firmly, next to one of an unsmiling child. The child’s face has been smudged from constant exposure, and so is the little owl’s photo.  _Yillium_  is printed neatly under the photograph, as well as a date. That must be the owl’s name.  _Lee Jungsu_  labels the unknown child, with what looks like a ripped school’s name tag taped carefully onto the profile.

 _Complete Combination,_ the profile states in big, bold letters.  _Determination in human body still unstable._

A new profile, with the same diagram of the strange, deformed soul that Jun has, but without all the cracks. Half of an upright human soul, and half of an upside-down monster soul, sewn together so tightly the stitches are visible. The letters of their names are scribbled out, and jumbled into a new one.

_D01892. Lee Jun Yi._

You shove the file away, feeling sick, and a small polaroid slips out from the stack and drops to the floor. You pick it up, wanting to stick it back where it belongs, but the writing on the back stops you. It’s rounded and childish, a kid’s handwriting.

 **My first Polaroid! Age 5.**  And beneath it, he had carefully printed his name in block letters.

**LEE JUNGSU + MOMMY**

You flip the photo card, and a small, unfamiliar face grins into the camera. His face is round, where Jun’s is sharp and angular, and his hair is dark and wavy, curling away from big, brown eyes. Glowing eyes. Eyes that could see. He looks completely different.

A woman is crouched next to him, holding him lovingly in her arms, her smile as bright and toothy as his. You lift your thumb off her face to have a proper look, and your knees go weak.  

Over your shoulder, Sans emits a low growl. Toriel gives a muffled sob.

It’s Yuena.

* * *

 

**_Several Years Ago_ **

 

Yuena looks up as something darts past her kitchen.

“Jun Yi,” she calls sternly, setting down the heavy cookbook. Shoes squeak as they return, and a little brown head appears in the doorway.

“I’m going out to play,” he says defensively, red soccer ball tucked carefully under a small arm. His words whistle and lisp through the hole from his first baby tooth.

“Did you forget something?” Yuena taps her cheek, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. She tries not to laugh at the exasperated look on his little face. Sometimes he looks so much like her dead husband, it’s almost jarring to see his expressions replicated on his sweet features.

He beckons her closer, and she leans down cheerfully to receive her kiss. She grabs him and kisses him back, loud smacks on each chubby cheek. He squeals, wriggling away from her and rubbing her red lipstick marks furiously with the back of his sleeve as she laughs at him. He opens his mouth to complain, and she cuts him off.

“I love you.”

He stops, pursing his lips, and turns his nose up in a huff. “I know.”

Yuena snorts, and gently pushes him towards the door. “Come back before the sun sets.”

She watches him run, not wanting to waste a precious minute of play time, to the playground just opposite the house. He skids to a stop for a moment, heels digging into the grass, and he turns where she’s watching him from the kitchen window.

“I love you too!” he shouts, before he continues his mad dash across the neighbourhood.

Yuena finds herself smiling even long after he’s gone.

Sunset spills across her accounts book, warm and gold, and Yuena’s head jerks up, startled by how quickly time has passed. The dinner she’s made is still cooling on the table, but Jun is still not back. Strange. Jun is usually tired and hungry enough that he’s back and ready to eat.

She unfurls from the table, feeling her muscles ache pleasantly as she stretches. Pulling on a comfortable cardigan, she crosses the street to retrieve her little rascal.

He’s not there.

“He already left, Mrs. Lee!” Jun’s little friend, Patrick, blinks up at her with sweet brown eyes, oblivious to her slowly growing panic. “He said he’s hungry then he left.” The group of kids murmur with agreement, till a little pig-tailed girl, older than all the rest, folds her arms across her blue jumper.

“He didn’t go his usual way, though!” She points down the walkway. “He didn’t cross. That’s where your house is, right?” Her little voice is sharp and authorative, and Yuena feels herself nod dumbly. “He walked down that way! But he only just left like just now.”

“He…he didn’t say where he was going? Or did someone take him along?” Yuena licks her lips. Other parents she recognises start to come up to her, drawn by her look of panic. 

“Nuh-uh. We know not to go with strangers,” she scoffs, before Yuena feels herself surrounded by adults, making questioning, concerned noises. She feels suffocated.

“Thank you,” she hears herself say faintly. “I’ll go look for him.”

 

The sun has set.  

The work shoes Yuena slipped on in a hurry are working blisters onto her heels and toes. She feels like she’s walked forever, to the edge of the neighbourhood, and she still has not caught any sight of him. Her throat is raw from crying out his name, her breath coming out in soft, panicky white puffs in the chilly air. The dusty blue of twilight starts to soak into white fences and shingled roofs. Each house was starting to blend into the next, every neighbourhood looking like a maze of white-fenced houses.

Jun seems to have completely vanished.

She crouches down next to an alley, out of the way to rub her bleeding blisters. Water drips from her face, making dark spots on the cracked concrete beneath her feet.

She’s crying. She’s crying, and heaving, and the realisation that she’s crying only makes the dam break completely. She buries her face into her arms and wails, wetting the precious cashmere cardigan. The empty sound of her crying echoes down the alleyway, and she’s never felt her loneliness and desperation more acutely than this moment. Her child was the only family she had left, and even then, she was stupid enough to lose him.

Something nudges at her foot, and she looks up to see a ball. A soccer ball. A familiar, red soccer ball.

Her heart leaps, and she stumbles upwards in frenzied hope.

She sees a nightmare.

Through the wall of the alleyway, a melting skeleton crawls, its body a mass of black goop. Its lopsided mouth shudders, then curls up into a crooked, bent grin. It’s smiling, and somehow that makes it more terrifying. Its distorted, horrible head twists, smiling down at someone.

At Jun.

Yuena’s world stops as she watches her tiny son looks up at the deformed monster, his bright eyes glazed and distant. Like a horror movie, the monster holds out a bony hand, and her son reaches out to take it. Her body reacts on instinct, before she can even begin to comprehend what the hell she’s seeing.

She screams his name, her bleeding feet scrambling on the concrete, and the monster jerks its head towards her. The grin drops, it’s mouth forming an ugly grimace. At any other time, she would have been terrified. But her son is looking at her, looking confused and scared. She sees his little mouth open to call for her.

She runs.

The monster moves quicker than it looks, and envelops her little boy in it’s dark, goopy mass. It disappears into the wall just as Yuena reaches it, and she slams into cold brick.

The barrier breaks her. She screams, fists pummelling on the unmoving brick wall, but it doesn’t give way. She scratches at it till her nails bleed, crashes her shoulder into it till she’s bruised purple, but it’s just a wall.

She doesn’t understand.

Yuena doesn’t feel hands pulling her away, and she doesn’t hear the wail of the ambulance, or see the flashing lights. She emerges from her blind grief to find herself cleaned up and bandaged.

And being held as the main suspect of her missing son.

Babbling about monsters taking away her son garners some sympathy and very little trust. She’s dropped as a suspect, and sent for therapy instead. Therapists discuss how her brain reacts in trauma, about how she sees her son’s attackers as the terrifying illusion of a monster. There isn’t another truth for her to accept. She had to accept this one.

In the crisp autumn of 2016, she turns on the news, and a skeleton stands next to a talking goat.

A skeleton with a wide, taunting grin.

* * *

 

The photo flutters in your trembling hands. You don’t even realise how bad you’re shaking, till a pair of big, gloved hands gently covers yours. They coax the polaroid from your grip, but the image of Jun and Yuena, their smiling faces pressed cheek to cheek, is burned into your mind.

Toriel is the first to speak, her voice a soothing whisper. “Maybe it isn’t who we think it is.”

It’s a weak lie, and you shake your head. “The kid…it does look like him. And all the evidence…and how I found him wrapped in a hospital gown.” Your nails dig into your palm so hard it stings. “It…it makes a lot of sense.”

“My dear…” Toriel looks devastated and sympathetic, wringing her wrists together, when Frisk’s voice rings out clearly.

“This is the woman who’s been chasing after you all this time!”

 _“Frisk!”_ Toriel’s shout is chastising and scandalised, and Frisk jumps, accidentally crumpling the photo that somehow had gotten its way into his little hands. Jun is stock still, his narrow face draining of colour. _“Time and place!”_ she hisses. Frisk ducks behind Jun, looking ashamed. Papyrus steps up to placate Toriel.

“I asked him,” Jun interrupts quietly. “I asked him what the picture was. It’s not his fault.”

You can see his small frame shaking, trying his hardest to keep himself together, and you crouch down to take his hands in yours. They’re shockingly cold, but you hold on tightly. Jun’s breathing eases a little, and he leans automatically towards you. 

“Do I look like her?” he mumbles. Your chest burns unpleasantly, and your eyes sting.

“You used to,” you say truthfully. “But not anymore. Now you’re just Jun. The Jun I know is nothing like how she is now. She probably wasn't like this before, and neither are you.” You kiss the tip of his nose, making his face scrunch up.

“I see,” he says, but his voice sounds vulnerable, timid. He squeezes your hand, and you give him a reassuring squeeze back.

When you look up, Sans is staring at Jun, his eye sockets dark in that quiet, calculating way, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. You suddenly recall the way Jun bantered with Yuena; the threats, the bargaining, the little games they played trying to one-up each other.

Maybe they weren’t as different as you thought.

The ceiling groans, and dust falls onto the ground. Undyne clicks her teeth irritably, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Gotta keep goin’, if ya wanna see the whole of the place. Everything’s fallin’ to shambles.”

The group murmurs in consent, and they begin trudging onto the next room. Frisk sneezes at the dust, and Jun twists around at the sound, his brows furrowing in concern as Frisk catches up to him.

He lets go of your hand momentarily to dig into his pockets for a handkerchief, and your stomach gives a guilty lurch.

They’re different. Definitely different.

 

The rush of cold air from the next room stops you, and you clumsily grasp for Jun’s hand, pulling him and Frisk closer. You didn’t need magic to tell you this room was weird.

Toriel stiffens, and even Undyne emits a disgusted growl, backing Alphys safely towards the entrance. The walls of the room were crawling with wires and pipes. Chunky, complicated looking machines crowded every inch of wall there was. A thick layer of dust settled over them, so white and untouched that your feet left clear prints on the tiled floor.

A row of sharp instruments lay on a metal table, the layer of rust and decay only making them creepier. The strange stains on the table didn’t help, either. You shuddered, biting your lip bloody at the thought that Jun might have once been at the mercy of this room.

Something warm and heavy plops down on your shoulders, and you glance up to see Sans wrapping his coat around you, his gloved hand brushing your hair back casually. The small touch reassures you surprisingly, even though his skull has remained in its stony grimace. His smoky scent draws out the tension you didn’t even realise you were carrying, and you unconsciously burrow your face into the collar, cheeks flushing when Frisk catches you.

Sans crouches down to enter the room, brushing past the group. The moment his feet make contact with the dusty floor, it’s like he set off a switch.

The room sparks once, and all the machines awaken, their lights and switches flickering as they beep shrilly. Bright, blinding blue flashes by, and the machines crumple like empty cans as fizzling blue spears crash into them.

The room falls into silence again.

The children are huddled with you under Sans’ coat, and you can feel Frisk and Jun curled up against each other for comfort. Your eyes search the dim room, and you flinch as a tiny screen lights up in the corner of the room, buzzing as it starts up all on its own.

It’s an old computer, almost ancient by how bulky it looks and how tiny the screen is. You haven’t seen this type of computer since the 90s, even in this abandoned town.

It clicks and whirs, the screen lighting up with neon green text.

“S A N S.”

No one dares to even breathe, all eyes fixated on the tiny screen. The letters disappear, and the computer makes a louder, more insistent clicking noise.

“S A N S.”

Sans takes another step forward, even as Papyrus reaches out to stop him. The computer makes a delighted click.

“H A V E N ‘ T   S E E N  Y O U …..SO LONG.”

“H O W I S  T H E K I N D…D O C T O R… A LP H YS?”

Undyne growls lowly from her throat as Alphys gasps, growing pale.

“so this is where you’ve been hiding, gaster?” Sans’ voice is low and still. “we thought you were dusted for sure.”

“D E T E R M I NA T I O N  IS  P O W E R F U L.” The computer clicks triumphantly. “ E V E N  S MA L L  DOSES. D O C TOR   A L P H YS  WAS   H E L P F U L.”

Alphys makes a strangled sound, her paws flying to cover her face. Undyne is hunched over her protectively, looking as if she wants to simultaneously wreck the computer and comfort Alphys at the same time.

“and you did that by experimenting on monsters and humans alike. on children.” The corner of Sans’ mouth curls up into a grin, his voice lightly jesting. “all that code of ethics for nothin’, eh?”

The computer buzzes.

“D O N’ T  B L A ME  Y O UR  O L D MA N.  W E  AL L  H A D  TO  GE T  O U R  H A N D S  D I R TY… T O  G E T O U T OF  H E L L.”

“I S N ‘ T   T H A T   R IG HT… S A NS?”

Your heart plummets to your feet. The lights in Sans' eyes are extinguished, and Alphys makes an anguished sound, sinking to the dusty floor.

“ S E E…?  D O C T OR   ALP H Y S   U N D E R STA ND S.” The computer clicks smugly, and before it can give another click, a bright bolt of blue light crashes into the computer, and everything goes dark.

 _“Enough,”_ Undyne snarls, her knuckles white around her blue spear, her other arm curled around Alphys. “Enough.”

The silence in the wake of Undyne's fury is louder than her anger, and for a moment, no one moves. 

Dust starts crumbling from the ceiling again, and Toriel gathers herself. “Undyne is quite right. We should leave, for now. I can keep this place contained.”

Papyrus is silent and quick as he escorts the group safely from the underground.

Once everyone was safely within Toriel’s home, Sans disappears. Your stomach lurches at the thought of him ignoring you and everyone else for weeks again, and you shuffle deeper into his coat. Papyrus gives you a small pat on the head.  

“MY BROTHER IS STUPID SOMETIMES,” he says, and his comment is so candid it draws an unexpected bark of laughter. Papyrus smiles too, a real smile. “HE CAN BE BAD AT ASKING FOR A HUG. ESPECIALLY WHEN HE NEEDS IT MORE THAN ANYONE.” His eyes shine, full of expectation.

“I know. I wish I just knew where he hides,” you admit. You watch Toriel busying in the kitchen making tea for everyone’s nerves, and Frisk busying himself with a blanket fort for Jun. Everyone is gathering together for comfort, and Sans just…disappears.

“I CAN TAKE YOU THERE.” Papyrus holds out his hand, whispering loudly, “WE JUST PRETEND WE DON’T KNOW WHERE SANS IS, SO HE CAN HAVE SOME PEACE.”

“That’s nice,” you mumble. “Won’t he be mad that I’m invading his peace?”

“EVERYONE NEEDS A LITTLE DISRUPTION SOMETIMES.” Papyrus fiddles with his gloves, and his eyes lowered to the ground guiltily. “I THINK HIS IS LONG OVERDUE.”

* * *

Sans’ hiding spot turns out to be a surprisingly dingy little office, with monsters rushing around outside, landlines bleeping, and a little goat receptionist that eyes Papyrus so sternly that she makes the monster triple her size stutter.

You had no idea he works in an _office._

“OH, HE’S NOT HERE MOST OF THE TIME,” Papyrus says, like he can read your mind. “HE SHIRKS HIS DUTIES ALMOST ALL THE TIME, LIKE A LAZY BONES, HE IS.”

One lone room sits at the end of a long corridor, and you stand hesitantly in front of the unassuming grey door. Papyrus pats your back, giving you a trusting grin, and marches back down the corridor.

You knock lightly, feeling a twinge of anxiety in your belly at Sans’ low grunt behind the door. Maybe Papyrus does put a little too much faith in you.

You blink at the sight of Sans in his office.

He's crouched over a large table, his desk so full of papers it almost entirely hides him from view. There’s a small, neat pile of files on one side, and the other side has letters and stacks of papers cascading down to the floor. It’s a mess, a hurricane of frenzy, and…

Utterly Sans.

His mouth hangs open a little when he sees you at the door, the pen he was chewing on dropping onto his stack of paperwork. You shut the door carefully, and make a beeline straight for him.

“uh…heya, doll. how didja…i mean…what a, uh, nice surprise..?”

You frown at him, arms crossed. He squints at you, eyes darting from your crossed arms to your frown like he’s trying to decipher an equation. He’s wearing actual _glasses,_ bless him. They’re making it so hard for you to keep your frown on.

“You’re running away again.” He grins, but his eyes are slowly darkening. _“Sans.”_ He shrinks back as you make your way behind the table, sliding down in his seat.

“You’re not trying that again. You’ve ignored me enough, mister.” He’s silent even as you prod at his cheek, so you plop yourself into his lap, coat and all. He makes a muffled groan, not complaining otherwise, but he doesn’t meet your eyes, either.

You feel his breathing hitch when you lean against his broad chest, like he’s almost afraid to touch you.

“I know you think you’re a bad person,” you murmur to the wool of his sweater. “But you’re not.”

Sans barks out a quick, short laugh, full of spite and anger. “you don’t know the half of it, dollface,” he sneers.

“So tell me,” you retort. He snorts. “wouldn’t want to send ya runnin’ for the hills just yet.”

You narrow your eyes at him, and he effortlessly stares past you, twirling his pen agitatedly. “Sans…doing bad things doesn’t always mean you’re a bad person.” He gives another disdainful snort. “People make mistakes, and…and it’s what they do afterwards that counts.” You flip through his paperwork; signing and appealing for budgets, food rations, housing for homeless monsters…

“You’re doing all you can for them, and that is something! That’s-" 

“it’s not enough.” Sans’ voice is lonely, exhausted. He leans back and shuts his eyes fiercely. “it will never be enough. it can never make up…not for…for that.”

You reach up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Are you working your hardest?” you ask, even though you already know the answer. He leans into your touch. “not as much as i want to,” he murmurs. “some days, i can’t even get out of my own bed.”

“But here you are.” You kiss his cheek. “It’s okay to not make it every day, Sans. You’re doing your best. It’s enough.” You reach up to wind your arms around his neck, and he lowers his head to press his forehead against yours. He huffs. 

"ya think?" 

“You’re enough for me.” He lets out a long, loose, breath, like he's been holding it. 

“will you put in a good word into HR for me, then?” he chuckles dryly, but his voice is thick, like a marble had lodged itself in his throat. “i could really use a raise.”

“Of course," you reply easily. “Who should I make it out to?”

He buries his laugh in your shoulder, and you let him hold you flush against his chest, the shoulder of your own sweater growing damp with tears. You brush your hands down over his back, wondering when was the last time he’d let someone hold him while he cried. The grey sky outside his window fades from a light ash to a dark navy, and eventually you hear footsteps coming towards the office. Two quick knocks, and someone barges in without waiting for a response.

“Sans, I’m sorry to interrupt but I heard you were in the office and I-“

Asgore pauses, taking in the sight before him, and you can’t help blushing under his incredulous stare.  Asgore flushes just as brightly, and immediately turns to leave.

“Goodness! Excuse me, uh.” The door slams shut, and Asgore’s muffled voice comes from the other side. “This is an office, Sans! Please, no canoodling!”

Sans groans, before he rumbles contently against you, nuzzling his skull into your neck. You can still hear Asgore busy shooing workers away from Sans’ office, laughing. “It’s nice to see young love still exists, even during during trying times like these.”

Your face is still blazing, but you soften at his comment.

“noisy,” Sans complains. You have half a mind to hit his skull, but that thought evaporates when he kisses you softly, nuzzling his skull against your cheek like an oversized cat. There’s a squeal from outside as the gossip erupts, and Sans grumbles.

“time to get a new private spot.”   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! i know i've been gone for another godawful time again, but i can promise you i'm not giving up on this fic! i know there are some of you who have stuck with this fic since the beginning of it, and i just wanted to thank you all so much for your support!! (;o;) thank you angels for continuously reading and giving feedback on this fic, and i will continue working my hardest on it!
> 
> p.s. i have actually met a person called jun, we're friends, and now it feels weird writing this fic LOL. thankfully they're nothing alike, besides both being really smart.


	21. the color of discord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huzzah for another update!

**On the last chapter:**

He buries his laugh in your shoulder, and you let him hold you flush against his chest, the shoulder of your own sweater growing damp with tears. You brush your hands down over his back, wondering when was the last time he’d let someone hold him while he cried. The grey sky outside his window fades from a light ash to a dark navy, and eventually you hear footsteps coming towards the office. Two quick knocks, and someone barges in without waiting for a response.

“Sans, I’m sorry to interrupt but I heard you were in the office and I-“

Asgore pauses, taking in the sight before him, and you can’t help blushing under his incredulous stare.  Asgore flushes just as brightly, and immediately turns to leave.

“Goodness! Excuse me, uh.” The door slams shut, and Asgore’s muffled voice comes from the other side. “This is an office, Sans! Please, no canoodling!”

Sans groans, before he rumbles contently against you, nuzzling his skull into your neck. You can still hear Asgore busy shooing workers away from Sans’ office, laughing. “It’s nice to see young love still exists, even during during trying times like these.”

Your face is still blazing, but you soften at his comment.

“noisy,” Sans complains. You have half a mind to hit his skull, but that thought evaporates when he kisses you softly, nuzzling his skull against your cheek like an oversized cat. There’s a squeal from outside as the gossip erupts, and Sans grumbles.

“time to get a new private spot.”   

* * *

 

 

The savoury, mouth-watering aroma of fries is the first thing that prods at your consciousness. There’s a sound of a soft exhale somewhere, and the sickly-sweet smell of smoke overpowers the food. You wrinkle your nose, trying to pull your covers over your face, only to find them strangely stiff, and very unblanket-like.

Your eyes blink open slowly, dazed and confused, watching your fingers trying vainly to pull someone’s roughened brown coat around you. A coat that somebody is currently wearing. Which means you’re sleeping against someone’s chest. Curled up on somebody’s lap.

“finally awake, eh?”

You jerk up into a sitting position, only to have an arm come up around you, pulling you back. Sans’ large, grinning skull comes into view. His arm presses you against his chest, and you distinctly feel a damp spot on his sweater where you must have been drooling.

Embarrassment floods through you, like you’re being dipped in a bath far too hot. You hide your face in your hands.  

“thought i was supposed to be the lazy one, but guess who fell asleep while you were busy offering a shoulder ta cry on?” He gives you a slow wink. Your mouth drops open, trying and failing to come up with an explanation.

“It was…it was a long day?” you try. Sans bumps his chin into your forehead affectionately. You can feel the rumble from his chest when he sighs.

“it was,” he agrees, the lights in his eye sockets looking dim for a moment. You want to reach out to touch his cheek, to ease that sadness away, when something scrapes across the table.

The small booth you’re in is suddenly awash with a warm, golden light. Grillby is sliding another platter of burger and fries onto the table, and your stomach makes a discontented growl. Grillby blinks, almost looking pleased at the reaction his food elicits, until he realises the position you and Sans are in.

He makes a disgruntled sound, and you almost fall over yourself trying to slide off Sans’ lap. The skeleton holds you in place shamelessly, effortlessly, and raises the empty ketchup bottle at Grillby.

“cheers, old pal.” He grins. “let’s not scare my date away, eh?”

Grillby snorts, and settles himself into the opposite seat. You realise the restaurant is unusually quiet, and empty. The chairs have already been stacked, and the floors were shined. He must have closed up the restaurant. What time was it?

“Boss,” you say weakly. He gives a grunt, and slides the platter of burger and fries over to you.

You feel almost ravenous at this point, and before you know it, you’ve stuffed your mouth with fries. You choke out a shy ‘thanks’, unsure of how to feel at your employer seeing you in this state, in his own restaurant.  

Grillby only makes an approving noise.

As you eat, they seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation. Behind Grillby’s steamed up glasses, you can feel him frowning, his flames flickering agitatedly. Swallowing your mouthful of food, you can see Sans’ right hand subtly moving in quick, graceful movements, nearly hidden by his own untouched plate and dozens of ketchup bottles. His other hand rubs soft, soothing circles on your knee to keep you distracted. Grillby studies them hard, his fingers tapping restlessly against the wood of the table.

Sign language? Why were they hiding their conversation from you?

You clear your throat, and they turn to you immediately, their hard expressions vanishing quickly. Your eyes narrowed. They were hiding something.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Grillby leans back, folding his arms disapprovingly across his chest. _“I told you she would find out,”_ he murmurs, so quiet that the crackling of his flames almost drowns out the low timber of his voice.

You frown at Sans. He tries vainly not to look at you, picking at his cold fries. “No more secrets.”

“dollface…”

“Don’t you even try–”

Something blares loudly, jingling from the pocket of his coat. Startled, you instinctively press yourself to his side, and you feel his arm close around you comfortingly. He retrieves his battered old cell phone from his pocket and flips it open.

“hey boss. what’s up?” He sounds almost relieved. He slides out of the booth to take his call, and you nibble at your lip anxiously as you watch him go.

A light crackling catches your attention.

_“Things are not going well outside of Ebott.”_ Grillby cleans his glasses furiously with a pale handkerchief. _“Sans will be busy.”_ He looks up, and you’re a little unnerved seeing the molten lava of his eyes without the protective lens of his glasses. They’re a little blinding, like looking into the sun. You look away. _“Busier, with the open portals.”_

“Not going well? You mean the integration?” The last thing you knew of human and monster interactions was the human-monster gala that you had worked at. There were certainly more monsters than humans, and it didn’t seem like anything important was going on despite how grand it looked.

Grillby shakes his head.

_“Humans outside are getting…”_ Grillby pauses, struggling to find the words. His finger prints leave tiny scorch marks on his handkerchief. _“Territorial.”_

Your heart makes a soft thump, dropping to your feet. Suddenly, all that burger in your stomach feels like it’s gonna come back up.

Before you can ask anything else, Sans is back, his grin looking more forced than ever. You pick up on it a lot quicker sometimes. Papyrus must see it all the time. Maybe that’s why he’s always so worried.

“c’mon dollface, time to get ya back home. i got some errands to run.”

“At this time?” You stand up, concerned. Sans’ hold on your arm is anxious, protective. Grillby says nothing, but his fingers are laced tightly together.

“we’ll take a shortcut. you don’t mind staying at toriel’s for the night, do you?”

“What? I don’t mind, but –”

“kids are there anyway. toriel could use the company. see ya, grillbs. just put it on my tab, won’tcha?” Sans is babbling. Grillby knows that too, from the way he narrows his eyes.

You don’t get a chance to say goodbye before you’re looking out at the empty streets. A cold glove grasps your fingers, and you’re pulled along, feet stumbling in a hurry to keep up with his long strides. You’re left staring at his broad back, hunched over with his burdens and secrets. After all that in his office, it seemed to ease but only a tiny fraction of his worries. It made you worry.

The moment you reach Toriel’s back door, he gives you hand a gentle, reluctant squeeze, and turns to leave. You grip on tightly, and he looks down at you, his expression unreadable.

“Sans. What’s wrong?” He looks down at your entwined fingers, but doesn’t try to pull away. “You can tell me.”

He opens his mouth, lingering, but snaps it shut, looking uncertain. His brow bones furrow, the wrinkle so deep that it looks like it might etched into his skull forever. You press your fingers against it, smoothing it out, and he turns his head to lie his cheek against your palm.

“i will,” he promises. “when i get back.”

“You better,” you threaten weakly. “Everyone is worried about you, you know. Especially Papyrus.”

“yeah?” His eyes are shining, glowing brighter than the dim, flickering street lights. “paps’ been the one blabbering to you, then.” He takes in a deep, slow breath, his eyes shut when you pull his skull towards you, kissing him softly. He leans into the kiss, but he’s gentle, tender, almost like he’s afraid to touch you.

He whispers that he has to go, and he pulls away before you can hold him again. But when he walks away, his shoulders seem a little straighter, his back less bent.

* * *

 

The office is clouded with smoke, so thick that Yuena can barely see the faces of the other men around the table. Maybe the room was designed to be this way. After all, the assistants around her are constantly refilling her bitter, cheap coffee, but none of them make any move to open a window. Not that it matters. Anyone who has a say in this room are all the same –old, white men in matching black and white suits. Some of them are mayors. Some are chairpersons.

As long as they agree with Yuena, their identities don’t matter to her.

“People are getting restless, I’m sure you know that. The towns outside of Ebott have gotten a lot more crowded ever since the evacuation.” One of the taps the ashes off into his coffee. “People are already worried about foreigners coming into our country, we don’t need to worry about _fuckin’_ demons from the underground.” 

A round of low, raspy laughter. Yuena’s nails tap irritably against her leg, but she doesn’t say a word.

“Honestly, the government is coming to shit, that’s what it is. We should have shot them all the moment those parasites crawled out of the ground, instead of letting them roam freely after they killed a few of ours.” A low, bitter murmur starts. Yuena finally cracks a small smile. “Human rights are only for humans. Who says monsters have any rights at all? Just cus’ they can talk doesn’t mean shit. How much have we all lost, our profits, our land, _our homes,_ just from those goddamn _animals!”_

“I say we just go back and take it,” Yuena says coolly. “It does belong to us.”

“But the laws…” Someone’s voice is doubtful. “The hippies that are all pro-monsters too, they’ll be on our ass. It won’t look good for us…”

“Why? Rebuilding the town for our families won’t look good for us?” She slides down casually in her seat, red lacquered nails tapping against the arm rests. The men mutter unhappily amongst themselves. Her smile grows sly, and she lowers her bait, tantalisingly, teasingly.  

“I suppose men of a greater power wouldn’t have to worry if they _can_ take back what is theirs.”

The room explodes, voices bellowing across the room, some in loud agreement and others in blind rage. Fists pound the table repeatedly. Coffee cups are knocked over, spilling across documents that don’t matter.

Yuena leans back, letting the chaos wash over her. An assistant lights her cigarette.

* * *

 

Mornings in Toriel’s house are like a dream. Even though the sky outside is always grey, her house is warm and bright, like the sun emits from the walls and inside each room.

You watch her bustle around in the kitchen, putting together breakfast like you never could. What she offers you and Jun for breakfast makes what you used to have look like table scraps.

“I smell fries,” Jun says, his little nose lifted in the air, wriggling away from you. “Stay still,” you mutter, trying to tame his fluffy hair down with a comb. It was like trying to brush down a white cotton candy.

“Why is the smell coming from you?” Jun says accusingly. “Did you get fries without _me?"_

“I went with Sans,” you countered, giving up on the comb. One of its teeth was slightly crooked from Jun’s impossibly thick hair. He wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“I don’t see what’s so good about that ketchup monster,” he mutters, sweeping his hand over the table for utensils. “Getting fries without me… Being in love has changed you.”

You splutter, your heart staggering over itself. “I’m not _in love!”_ you argue weakly. “Don’t make me sound like such a dweeb.” You knock the comb against his big head. “And you can’t say that, hypocrite! I’ve found the paper hearts you’ve been exchanging.”

Jun turns so red so quickly, you’re not surprised if steam starts billowing from his ears. He’s flushed all the way down his narrow neck, clutching his fork like a weapon.

“It’s just origami!”

“Just origami with your names on it, huh?”

Jun grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, and you smother your laugh, watching him fondly even as he stabs at the blueberries.

“Do we…do we have to go back home?”

You pause, staring at the golden syrup puddling in the corner of your plate. Go home? Frighteningly, you’ve already started to think of this place with Toriel as home. An actual home, not the cracked, broken apartment you reluctantly made a home out of.

Though Toriel has never asked you to leave, you were sure you couldn’t stay forever.

“Maybe…maybe not for a few days, yet? I heard things are not going so good in Ebott right now. I’m sure Toriel will let us have a few more days here, till things settle down.” You tug at your sleeves.

Jun munches pensively, looking like he didn’t agree with your answer. You don’t blame him. You would stay in this sunny, golden house forever if you could.

“Is there anything you need from there? I can go get it after work today.” He taps his fork against his empty plate. 

“My laptop…” He blinks glossy eyes in your direction. “I miss it.”

You burst out laughing, reaching over to smooth his crazy hair over. “Okay, you tech junkie. I’ll get for you.”

Toriel comes into the kitchen just then, guiding a very grumpy, sleepy Frisk ahead of her. She eyes your old, patched bag.

“Good morning, my dear. Going to work already?”

“Yes. Thanks for making breakfast.” You slung the bag over your shoulder self-consciously. “It was really good. I should get the recipe from you sometime.”

“Of course,” Toriel beams. “Have a good day at work, my dear.”

When you close the door behind you, there’s a strange feeling in your chest. You swallow down the sudden flush of irrational tears. It feels so stupid to cry, especially when everyone has been good to you, and you haven’t had to worry about food or rent for a while. Brushing your sleeve across your eyes, you can’t help but notice the walk to work seems less treacherously cold after a full stomach. 

* * *

 

Your apartment building is cold. The taped shut windows do nothing to keep the wind out, and the worn steps are almost slippery. Funny how quick you’d get used to luxury, and forget what little you used to have.

The hallway is quiet and dark as always. It echoes loudly when you jab your key into the door, the hinges squealing as you pull it open.

The apartment is not empty.

Your heart almost jumps right out of your chest at the slender figure perched on the couch. Her dark hair and expensive clothes makes her look extremely out of place, like a model photoshopped into your drab apartment. She doesn’t belong here. It’s almost like you were having a very strange, vivid nightmare.

“Yuena,” you whisper. Your hand clutches tightly to the door handle, ready to flee.

“It’s been a while.” Her smile is soft, almost friendly. The sudden memory of the polaroid picture of her hits you. She could have been like this; a gentle, loving mother. “How have you been?”

“What are you doing here?” you blurt. “How did you get in?”

“I’ve told you, your apartment isn’t the safest place. Where is Jun?” You jerk when she says his name, and you search her face, wondering irrationally if she knows. She gazes back at you evenly, brows raised. Now that you know what you’re looking for, they do look similar. The same bold, intelligent look. The same slope of a nose, the same angled chin.

You feel dizzy.

“-darling, I’ve told you a million times, you can always come with me. To a better place for you and him.” You blink, trying to refocus on her. _You’re panicking,_ you realise, and you grasp onto the strap of your back tightly, nails digging into your palm. Your eyes are scanning the house, looking for signs of her lackeys, anyone else at all.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say faintly.

“I thought you might say that,” she sighs, crossing her legs irritably. She tosses the book she’s been reading onto the couch carelessly.

It’s one of Jun’s favourite books.

“Which is why I’ve brought someone very special. I’m sure they’ll change your mind.”

“Nothing will change my mind, I told you…!” Footsteps click behind you, and you spin around, heart pounding out of your chest, ready for an attack.

 Yuena’s smile sharpens.

 A woman appears at the end of the hallway, clutching a bulky handbag, her mismatched, oatmeal cardigan wrapped tight around her round body. She looks up as she reaches you, and your world starts spinning so wildly your legs almost give out beneath you. You barely manage to give a breathless, incredulous whisper.

  _ **"Mom?”**_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!! thank you for reading! :)


	22. the color of tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you darlings for waiting!   
> happy valentines day to you all, and i hope you're all having a good day!

 

 ON THE LAST CHAPTER:

The hallway is quiet and dark as always. It echoes loudly when you jab your key into the door, the hinges squealing as you pull it open.

The apartment is not empty.

Your heart almost jumps right out of your chest at the slender figure perched on the couch. Her dark hair and expensive clothes makes her look extremely out of place, like a model photoshopped into your drab apartment. She doesn’t belong here. It’s almost like you were having a very strange, vivid nightmare.

“Yuena,” you whisper. Your hand clutches tightly to the door handle, ready to flee.

“It’s been a while.” Her smile is soft, almost friendly. The sudden memory of the polaroid picture of her hits you. She could have been like this; a gentle, loving mother. “How have you been?”

“What are you doing here?” you blurt. “How did you get in?”

“I’ve told you, your apartment isn’t the safest place. Where is Jun?” You jerk when she says his name, and you search her face, wondering irrationally if she knows. She gazes back at you evenly, brows raised. Now that you know what you’re looking for, they do look similar. The same bold, intelligent look. The same slope of a nose, the same angled chin.

You feel dizzy.

“-darling, I’ve told you a million times, you can always come with me. To a better place for you and him.” You blink, trying to refocus on her.  _You’re panicking,_  you realise, and you grasp onto the strap of your back tightly, nails digging into your palm. Your eyes are scanning the house, looking for signs of her lackeys, anyone else at all.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say faintly.

“I thought you might say that,” she sighs, crossing her legs irritably. She tosses the book she’s been reading onto the couch carelessly.

It’s one of Jun’s favourite books.

“Which is why I’ve brought someone very special. I’m sure they’ll change your mind.”

“Nothing will change my mind, I told you…!” Footsteps click behind you, and you spin around, heart pounding out of your chest, ready for an attack.

 Yuena’s smile sharpens.

 A woman appears at the end of the hallway, clutching a bulky handbag, her mismatched, oatmeal cardigan wrapped tight around her round body. She looks up as she reaches you, and your world starts spinning so wildly your legs almost give out beneath you. You barely manage to give a breathless, incredulous whisper.

  _ **"Mom?”**_

 

* * *

 

 

The silence is charged, fizzing and spitting, and Yuena sinks delightfully into the familiar chaos and confusion bubbling in the air. Controlled chaos is her domain. When she holds the control.

 

_“You’re here?”_ Your voice sounds faint, and you feel your fingernails dig deep crescents into your palm with the effort of holding yourself together. Was this some sort of hallucination?

 

“Hello, my darling,” your mother mumbles back at you, the words foreign and clumsy in her mouth. Their jagged awkwardness jerks you back into reality. Your mother isn’t even looking at you properly, her eyes wet and wide with anxiety, darting glances at Yuena.

 

Your mother is _afraid._

 

You’ve never seen her so terrified of another human before, her usual haughtiness nowhere to be found. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here, and even now, all her attention is focused on someone else.

 

Your chest twinges. It’s not a surprise, but it still hurts. After all these years, not being her priority still sucker punches you right in the chest.

 

Yuena nods at her hesitant glances, and shoos her off with a wave of her hand, her smile wide and soft as if she’s blessing her with the reunion of a beloved daughter, and not forcing her to meet up with a past she’d rather forget.

 

Your mother hobbles towards you, the stretch of her lips more a grimace than a smile, and one plump hand reluctantly pulls out from the safety of her oatmeal-brown cardigan, reaching for you.

 

You can feel the phantom grip on your arm, sweaty and forceful, before she even touches you. Her fat fingers press painfully into your skin, so vastly different from Toriel’s caring touch, or Jun’s clingy tugging, or Papryus’ firm but careful hold. 

 

So unlike Sans’ warm, protective grip.

 

You flinch backwards, your right hand clamping onto your arm, trying uselessly to stop the goosebumps from erupting where she’d grabbed you. Years of being absent from her side, and somehow her touch seems hostile, almost cruel.

 

Her hand hovers in mid-air, fingers curling up in rejection.

 

Yuena’s smile freezes, and as if your mother senses it, she tenses up as well, her lips pressed together tightly.

 

“Don’t be difficult,” your mother snaps. Sweat is starting to form on her upper lip, dotting along her hairline even in the chill of your rotten apartment. “After all the lady has done for you, at least show some gratitude.”

 

“What she’s done for me?” you echoed, and your mother blinks. You realise she’s never heard you raise your voice, much less give a direct rebuttal. You decide to continue before you lose your bravado altogether. “This woman had her men take shots at me with their guns!” At this, your mother’s brows knit together.

 

“That was because you were a hostage of a dangerous monster,” Yuena interrupts smoothly. “We would never have aimed for you on purpose.”

  
You give her a scathing look. “Uh huh. If it weren’t for Sans, I’d riddled with more holes than Swiss cheese.” Your mother gives a sharp gasp, clutching at her purse, her eyes darting between you and Yuena in confused horror.

 

Yuena is still smiling her bright, glossy smile, but it’s starting to take on a hard edge. She tucks a bouncy curl behind her ear, and takes a deep breath, the only sign she gives that she’s losing her patience.

 

Instead of rebutting your words, she turns to speak to your mother.

 

“I assure you that your daughter’s safety is our first priority.” Her manicured hands are clasped demurely in front of her, her face softly frowning, the picture of concern. Your mother nods dumbly, her eyes still uncertain. “And therefore, the government advises that it is in your best interests to recover any family you have lost in Ebott as a result of the sudden crisis. Datura has been asked personally to oversee this project, and here I am, to bring broken families together again.” She places a manicured hand over her heart, her smile so uncharacteristically soft, that if you didn’t know who she was, you’d have believed in her words. “Our database has tracked this young lady to be your daughter, and so we’ve brought you here!” She grins. Your mother nods along to her words quickly, jerkily, but her lips are twisted together, like she’s tasting something bad.

 

Your heart sinks, as if it’s drowning in tar. Your mother couldn’t make her reluctance more obvious.

 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? To go home?” Yuena’s eyes are suddenly on you, her smile sympathetic.

  
“Yeah.” You decide to bite the bullet, clearing your throat to speak more clearly. “Of course. My parents…they didn’t mean to leave me behind.”

 

 Your mother is choosing to stare at the worn buckle of her sandals, neither confirming nor denying your statement. Yuena makes a little sympathetic noise, and you watch your mother jerk her head at the noise, to give Yuena a sour smile and a nod. Your chest burns as you watch her. After you jerked your arm away, she has barely even given you a look.

 

It appears she’d just agree to whatever Yuena approves more.

 

Yuena claps her hands together in satisfaction, ignoring the obvious tension. “Well then, this has gotten off to a good ending for everyone! Shall we move along, then?”

 

Sure, if they could just ignore the giant fucking pink elephant in the room.

 

Everything here just points to one thing: whether your parents meant to leave you in the abandoned city or not, they sure as hell didn’t care to take you back with them. That slams down the last fleeting hope in your chest, and everything comes together like an awful puzzle.

 

It hits you like a ton of bricks; even the long nights spent thinking, preparing about this possibility can’t prepare you for the real deal. You feel like your heart has collapsed in on itself, and there’s a blank, blank nothingness, a hollow inside your chest where your soul should be.

 

Your soul…that dull grey little thing Sans pulled out of your chest. If it exists, it feels like it’s been crushed into nothingness, to dust. 

 

“I’m…I’m not going anywhere.” You try and fail to hide the obvious crack in your voice.

 

“Uh, um, darlin’, but _why-”_

 

“If its those monsters tricking you into staying, don’t bother with them.”

 

Yuena has risen to her full height, her eyes glittering and dangerous. Her heels makes a soft, menacing click on the worn wooden floor as she takes a step towards you. You instinctively take a step back.

 

“There’s going to be a full-on extermination of those vermin,” she explains, quietly and smoothly, like she’s talking about the weather. “And whoever, _whatever_ is left in the city will be removed by force, and their bodies buried beneath the mountain.”

 

Your keychain rattles quietly against your bag, but you realise it’s because of how hard you’re shaking.

 

“Y-You can’t,” you whisper, terrified. “There are hundreds of humans here, too. There are other families here. C-Children! You can’t kill _kids,_ can you?”

 

Yuena’s left eye twitches so briefly, you’d have missed it if you blinked.

 

“Whoever is left behind here and unclaimed, will not be missed.” Yuena’s eyes have lost their glow, looking cold and distant. “We cannot afford to relocate every human. If we cannot find their families to claim them, they are forgotten ex-citizens. We will give them the warning, and they will have to deal with it as such.”

 

“You’re a monster,” you blurt, then you flush hotly at your prime choice of words. Yuena looks down at you for a moment, the corner of her lips twitching like she’s suppressing a laugh. She pinches both your cheeks between her thumb and finger, manicured nails digging into you.

 

“Pot.” She drags her nails down to your jaw, her fingers icy cold. “And kettle.” She winks at you, then abruptly drops her grip on your face.

 

“It isn’t worth my effort to chase after every single human. However.” She gestures to your mother, who is looking more and more like she doesn’t want to be here as time passes by.

“Since you do have a family to return to, you are not a forgotten citizen. If you care to take your little one with you, Jun can also have to chance to be a real citizen.” At that, your mother frowns at the additional burden, opening her mouth to protest, but Yuena shuts her down with a snap of her fingers.

 

“I’ll give you till midnight.” She’s so close, you can practically taste the sickly sweetness of her perfume. She slides a stiff white card into your pocket. “You can change your mind and save those who care about you.” She gives you a little wry smile. “Or you can stay here, and eventually be buried with the dust of those monsters.” She shrugs, like she’s already gotten her way.

 

“Your choice.”

 

She turns to leave, heels clicking softly, your mother scurrying behind her. Even though she’s left, she’s left her grim presence behind in your safe space; her sweet perfume soaked into your skin, saturated in the air, the scuffs her heels have added to the wooden floor.

 

When she shuts the door behind her, you feel yourself slowly sinking to the ground, your trembling legs finally, slowly, able to give way.

 

* * *

 

 Yuena pauses in the dingy hallway, the swaying lightbulb above her throwing shadows everywhere. She could have sworn she saw someone rapidly turning the corner, but now…

 

The turn revealed a completely empty hallway.

 

The little magic-tracker in her pocket makes a soft beeping before it quickly shuts off, just as she felt a presence walk past in the background. She flinches, turning quickly, and your mother is quick to scan the grounds nervously.

 

“N-No monsters here, are there?” Yuena clicks her teeth irritably at the quavering question. She hates escort duty. Of all people, she only agreed to escort your mother on the off-chance you might revert to your senses, thank her for bringing you back to your lost family, and tell her where all her ‘Boss’ monsters were hiding at. She was tiring of dusting small prey; she wanted, _needed,_ to nip the problem right in its root.

 

Fat lot of good that did.

 

“No monster would dare to harm a fellow member of the Datura,” Yuena appeases, gesturing to the ornate flower pin on your mother’s collar. “When this extermination is over, no one will have to worry about monsters.” She strides forward confidently, her lips pressed into a tight, pained line. “Not ever.”

 

The loud, determined clacking of her heels mask the sound of your apartment door swinging open and shutting softly.

 

* * *

 

 There’s a quiet murmuring that you don’t register at first, but you start to recognise someone calling your name. 

 

You lift your head from its position between your knees, looking up. A large monster is crouched over you, almost blocking out the single, pathetic light in the room.

 

“…Sans?”

 

“heya dollface.” His skull is beaded with sweat, and his voice seems deeper than usual, rumbling through you, filled with concern and worry. “you doing ok?”

 

“Sans,” you repeat dumbly, and he shuffles closer as you reach out for him blindly. Your fingertips grasp onto the thick leather of his coat. There’s a low, heavy sigh, and you feel gloved hands circling your waist, lifting you up from the cold floor and onto his broad chest.

 

The turtleneck he’s wearing inside is radiating with heat compared to how cold the floor was, and it brings feeling back into your icy limbs. You lay your cheek against the soft knit, burying your nose into the faint scent of the city’s smoke and snow. _“Sans.”_

 

The same gentle hands start rubbing circles into your back. “what happened to ya?” he murmurs, and you can feel his baritone rumble against your cheek. “are ya hurt?”

 

“No,” you whisper, as your voice cracks. The warmth is bleeding back into your system, and  the numbness starting to fade away.

 

“ya sure? i saw that devil lady leavin’, ya don’t have to hide anything from me-“

 

Yuena’s cold eyes flash in your memory, dark with the promise of violence.

 

_Buried under the mountain with the dust of monsters._

 

You wince, shuddering against Sans’ chest. His hold around you tightens, and you feel the world around you tilt at a strange angle. There’s a disorientating jolt, and your back hits a soft surface that gives underneath you. The air around you warms considerably.

 

You’re in a bedroom, the duvet underneath you plush and unbelievably soft. _Rich,_ your mind supplies, and you blink at the sudden warm glow of a lamp. Sans shakes off the blue magic clinging onto his fingers, and turns to you, trying to give you a convincing grin.

 

“thought it might be more comfortable to cry here anyway.”

 

Your hand flies to your cheek to find it damp. You didn’t realise you were crying.

 

Cloth rustles as Sans sits on the floor in front of you so he can see you face to face. One large, bony hand reaches out to grasp your ankle that’s hanging off the bed, rubbing comforting little circles on your skin. The lights in his eye sockets are dim but kind, as if he’s struggling to keep something at bay.

 

“wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

 

His unusually gentle baritone breaks you, and you can feel your face crumple, your hands scrambling to muffle the first sob that breaks from you. Sans watches you anxiously, the grin melting off his skull as your sobs echo in the large, empty room, your shoulders shaking.

 

His grip on your ankle tethers you to the ground as you wail into your lap, the raw, devastated cries echoing clear around the room. It’s so quiet that all he can hear is your grief, and it grates deep into his soul, rattling in his chest.

 

Softly, slowly, he eases information from you between sobs as you slide off the bed and into his lap. Sans alternates between wiping the sadness from your cheeks and pressing comforting kisses wherever he can reach. He guards the expressions threatening to erupt from within his soul, holding you as tightly as he can without hurting you. You crush yourself to him uncaringly, curling up so tightly inside his coat, like you might disappear from the outside world if you tried hard enough.

 

Eventually, your cries fade to occasional, quiet whimpers, your death grip on his sweater relenting a little. Sans presses a kiss to your cramping fingers, and you watch through blurry, tired eyes as he nudges his warm skull against your forehead.

 

“Sans…?”

 

“…’m here,” he murmurs.

 

You slide your arms around his neck, shifting to nestle closer to him. “Sans,” you sigh.

 

“mmh.”

 

“Sans.” You tilt your head up to press a worn out, but grateful kiss against his jaw, and you can feel his pleased rumble.

 

“yea, doll?” he mumbles patiently, and you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at how he continues to answer, even though you’re just saying his name to reassure yourself. Your smile gives way to a yawn you try to hide, but Sans immediately shifts to lift you off his lap and into the bed.

 

Your hand catches at his sweater sleeve, unwilling to let go. It feels empty and lonely without something to hold onto. Exhausted as you are from today, you’re firmly awake the moment Sans moves away from you.

 

He hesitates for a moment, eyelights frozen on your unrelenting grip, before he slides into bed next to you. You give him a weary, but victorious smile.

 

“Stay,” you insist, then softer, “please?”

 

His grin looks a little realer this time. “bossy,” he complains, but he settles on the pillows next to you anyway. You loosen your grip, and your hand slides into his. He plays with your fingers as your eyes flutter close, the furrow in his brow bone deepening as he thinks.

 

Suddenly, your hand flies up and pokes him right in the furrow, and he lets out a surprised grunt.

 

“I can feel you thinking,” you mumble into your pillow. His grin droops, and he bends over to give your forehead an apologetic kiss. Your eyes open, your hands reaching out to drag him into a proper kiss, your fingertips sliding across smooth cheekbones.

 

You can feel his breath hitching when you run your tongue daringly across the edge of his teeth. He exhales onto your lips, and suddenly there’s a soft, wet tongue darting out to sweep across _your_ lips. When Sans deepens the kiss, you can feel yourself melt into him, the warmth from him sinking into your skin, into your bones, weighing you down into the bed.

 

When he parts from you, you’re properly subdued. Your face is flushed and your lips are swollen and glossy, your eyes glazed over. Sans swallows the sudden hard lump in his throat as his eyes dart over your face, tasting you on the tip of his tongue.

 

He shifts backwards, feeling strangely vulnerable even though you’re the one pinned beneath him. You let out an involuntary whine when he moves too far, and the quirk of his brow bone has your cheeks burning hot at the stupid noise you made. The corner of his mouth lifts in a teasing smile, but he immediately moves closer to you, his eyes drawn helplessly to your kissed-red lips.

 

You trace the corner of his smile with your thumb, watching him as he shuts his eyes, learning into your touch; trusting, easy. Your stomach twists at the thought of him, of everyone, being chased back to where the light couldn’t reach them, being hunted.

 

Being dusted.

 

“Sans…what are we going to do about the attacks on the city?”

 

His eyes remain closed, but you can feel his smile tensing.

 

“i’ll take care of it, dollface,” he says, smooth and easy. Not even a little hint of worry. “there’ll be things to discuss with the King himself, but we’re gonna sort things out.” 

 

“What Yuena said…”

 

“she’s jus’ threatenin’ ya.” One eyelight peeks out at you, surrounded by a light blue iris. You can’t tell what the colour of his eyes mean, but he seems fairly undisturbed. “scared the soul outta ya, didn’t she?”

 

“Yes,” you admit, but you’re much more relieved that Sans is going to work with the King himself to solve this problem. Surely Yuena couldn’t be powerful than the King Asgore and his human associates, could they?

“i gotta make a quick call to asgore. gimmie a sec, eh?” You reluctantly let him slide out of bed, pouting even as he winks at you. He ducks his head as he exits through the door, silent and easy despite his bulk, and shuts the door behind him with a quiet click.

 

Outside, Sans leans against the door, the back of his skull clunking softly against the wood.

 

He draws out the tiny white card he pickpocketed from your coat. Eyeing the print carefully, he memorises the string of short numbers and the email address. He wants to burn it on sight, set it alight with his magic, but somehow, he can’t bring himself to do it.

 

_She gave me till midnight to call the number,_ you said. Somehow, he feels she’ll gleefully wait for you, even if you call tomorrow.

 

He tucks it carefully back into his breast pocket, his skull thudding painfully with the beginnings of a migraine. He flips his old cell open and calls Asgore, the dial tone trilling in his palm, trying to ignore the fact that for the first time in his long, miserable life, despite everything that he’d been through, and despite what he’d promised you…

 

He had absolutely **no** idea what to do.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey, you made it all the way here! thanks for reading. (✿╹◡╹)
> 
> um, i just kinda coughed it all up over a span of days, but i'm planning to play with the story as it goes. this is my first ever fanfiction, so forgive me while i stumble around and find my bearings. (〃ﾟдﾟ〃)
> 
> any comments/feedback/constructive criticism would be welcomed! highly 'preciate it. here is my [tumblr!](http://greytrashcan.tumblr.com/) feel free to come talk to me about anything (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ
> 
> p.s. sorry for lack of puns + bad puns. i'm...learning...? （◞‸◟）


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